


Lost in Hollywood - The Curse of Lady Capulet

by nishiki



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arranged Marriage, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hidden Talents, Hidden truths, Jealousy, M/M, Rivalry, Romeo and Juliet References, Secret Relationship, manipulative parents, the dark side of Hollywood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-09-08 23:37:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 66,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8867779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishiki/pseuds/nishiki
Summary: The showbiz is a brutal and ever demanding world and many of those who dare to step inside and try their luck are bound to be crushed and burned by it. Altair Ibn-La'Ahad never willingly became a part of this world but born to two famous actors in an ever so tragic love story filled with death and regrets, never had a choice to become famous himself. Now a renowned actor he can look back with pride on his career and yet satisfaction and pride are the two things he lacks in his life greatly.Malik Al-Sayf, on the other hand, never wanted to be anything but an actor. However, at the peak of his career, a person he once called a friend is threatening to take all of this from him and force Malik back into the shadows. Now, on the set of the new TV hit series Romeo and Juliet, they meet again - but their reunion is far from peaceful, for Hollywood is as much about greed as it is about putting on a mask and hiding one's true self from the world.





	1. Prolog

****The kiss only lingered for a second like the taste of honey or the smell of cherry blossoms in spring. It was just the fleeting brush of two pairs of lips, but ever as sweet as the most precious poison. While it lingered she felt as though stumbling straight into another world unable to resist the temptation flowing through her body, demanding from her to follow and leave behind everything she knew as truth and held dear to her heart until that moment, but as the moment broke, the awakening was hard as if being hit by a sledgehammer straight to the stomach.

For a brief second, only as long as it took her heart to take a beat and a huff of air to leave her ever so slightly parted lips, she stared into the brown eyes of the man in front of her. However, to her it seemed that  _brown_ was not at all the right word to describe them, even honey did not match their color quite. _Amber_ , yes, that was more like it. His eyes were warm and gentle and enticing like amber. His smile was sweet and oh so alluring as his fingertips softly brushed her left cheek goodbye before he stepped back. His warmth still remained for another moment, but when he stepped back into the shadows it was winter all around her as if he had taken the sun with him, stolen it from her so that he would have a reason to come back and save her from freezing in the cold, everlasting night.

» _CUT!_ « The shout had her startled and made her jump and as Maria realized the surprise that had clearly shown on her face for just a moment, she could not help but laugh. Such a silly goose she was and yet the feeling of coldness around her every being never left her. It only worsened as the beehive around her started to buzz again and as her eyes fell upon a tall figure standing on the sidelines, watching her intently out of dark brown eyes like a panther would watch it's prey out of the shadows of the thick jungle, ready to rip open her throat with his sharp teeth for daring to even do as much as looking at what was his. The spell was broken, the moment gone and she was yet again Maria and not precious, silly Juliet.

Maria smiled as a member of the staff handed her a cup of coffee and complimented her on her performance, but she hardly even heard it. The words only brushed her ears and she could not even bring herself to care for the attributes people rewarded her with most of the time. Only when her eyes fell upon Altaїr again, her smile began to falter as her Romeo stepped closer to the dark-eyed figure in the back, a large smile on his perfectly chiseled face as he approached the dangerous creature like an old friend, like he would not know what danger was lying ahead of him now. It was a smile only one person in the world was rewarded with and Maria was not even all too sure if that person knew how lucky they were.

The thought made her sigh as she slowly turned to leave the scene, no matter how much strength and power of will it cost her to turn her back, for if Altaїr Ibn-La’Ahad was the sun, no matter how much she would like to claim otherwise, Malik Al-Sayf was the moon and not even the brightest  stars would ever come close to them.

  
  
****


	2. Chapter 2

The audience was completely unhinged as the people in the crowd were clapping from their seats in the audience room, as the short trailer on the big screens that were filling up the space all over the studio walls ended. And although Altaїr felt a certain sense of pride for his work, he had not even really looked at the trailer himself, only smiled his most charming smile and lounged comfortably on his chair like the spoiled prince he really was while the world, his agent and especially his fans tried to paint him as a modern saint, as a grounded young man, as the boy next door - because that was the role they most connected him to ever since he had been just a stupid kid and it seemed this was a role he would never be able to fully escape in the future, no matter in how many bloody thrillers or horror movies he would star.

»That looked awesome!« The host was still clapping a little moment longer as the audience slowly toned it down, careful to pronounce every word to highlight his full delight for what he had just seen, even though they all knew that he could not care less. Altaїr, of course, was quick to turn his whole body to the man at his left again and put on a little awkward smile. »Incredible!« The man laughed leaning forward on his desk and he was still grinning, now a little more sheepish as he stared directly in Altaїr's face. He knew what was coming up next and he did his best to mirror the host's facial expression. »Let me put this out here real quickly: You have been a guest on this show for many, many, many years" - Orchestrated laughter from the audience - "and quite frankly we have seen you in a lot of roles over the years, seen you do incredible things, but-« Altaїr started to laugh as the host began sorting out his moderation cards lying in front of him in a poor attempt of acting flustered and uncomfortable while Altaїr tried to act as though he would not already know what was coming and as though his reaction would not have been rehearsed extensively. »I don’t believe we have ever seen you naked from head to toe before.«

The audience - predominantly female, of course - started screeching and whistling and Altaїr buried his face in his hands as a picture from the trailer was put up on the big screen again of him in a rather compromising position with really poor editing to censor all the important parts. He was almost a little offended because of it. If the ladies wanted to see his little friend than he most definitely had no problem with it - his agent sadly had. »Am I right, ladies?« The host laughed before pointing at the picture before yet another was pulled up. »And could you please tell us what on earth are you doing there anyway?«

Altaїr's face was flushed a bright crimson red as he lifted his head again laughing. »Well, what does it look like, John? Clearly, I am doing a river dance!« He laughed and the crowd started laughing as one person.

»Oh, yes, _clearly_! Now that you told me I can see it too!« The host, John, replied and teased him with another picture of his naked form to make him uncomfortable - as if he would ever be able to do something like this. Altaїr had always been quite comfortable with nudity. »What would your mother say about this young man?«

»Actually, it was her idea.« Altaїr snickered. »She said my roles could use a little more sex appeal.«

»Yes, because you clearly have not gotten enough of that already! God help us all, but I will never forget little _Josh Johnson_ and thanks to these pictures I will never be able to watch an episode of _Keeping up with the Johnsons_ on Christmas out of nostalgia ever again.« It sounded a lot more creepy than his good friend John seemed to think and the audience did not catch on either, but Altaїr laughed and hid his face again behind his hands shortly. At least this time he was creeped out for real.

»I'm so sorry for you, Johnny.« He brought himself to say in a mocking tone, although he knew how things were behind the scenes and how dark this business really was.

»Yes, you better be. So, anyway, the first half of season one was a huge success and while we are all eagerly waiting for the second half you are already working on the second season, is that true?« John asked almost inquisitively. Up until now, they had done a good job in keeping their filming secret so that they would not get swarmed by fame hungry fangirls again.

»Indeed it is.«

»So, let us in on a little secret, would you? How is working with your old colleagues again? I mean, isn't it funny that all of your main colleagues of your first major success movie are working with you on that new project again?«

»It's absolutely lovely, John. You see, _The End is Where We Begin_ will always hold a special place in my heart, not just because I won my first major award for it, but because of my colleagues.« A collective _awwwwww_ gushed through the crowd like a wave of icy cold water and again Altaїr grinned a little flustered. »No, I mean it. You know, I was still pretty much a novice back then - not that I am much better now - but working with all these amazingly talented guys … I mean look what incredible actors became of them! Desmond, Connor, Ezio, Kadar and Malik! They are huge names in the industry now and we do have a lot of fun on set again. I really do love these guys.«

※※※※※※※

»Oh gosh isn't that just brilliant.« Malik huffed as he walked into the living room as if it was his own and snapped the remote control out of his little brother's idle hands to turn off the big flat screen TV that almost filled the entire south wall of the room, so that he would no longer need to hear Altaїr’s incoherent word diarrhea on television. His brother had always been one for technological extravaganza and so his apartment was packed to the brim with all kinds of shiny new tech goodies. These days it was hard to escape him, Altaїr that was. He seemed to be absolutely everywhere on TV, touring through late night shows and the afternoon talk shows, always with this faked attitude that Malik so very much hated. » _I really love these guys_ , just listen to that. I think I threw up in my mouth a little just now.«

Kadar only rolled his eyes as he threw a glance over his right shoulder to where Malik was standing behind the large black leather couch on which he was loafing. »You know, Malik, if you wouldn't always look so grumpy, you would get invited to these shows more often too. No need to be jealous, just because he knows how to play the game...«

Kadar's love for everything modern and the latest technology was mirrored in every detail and aspect of his apartment. Even though he was still new in the business, he was quite popular already and could afford a flat as this one easily. The flat in itself was not as big as one might have suspected. In addition to the open plan kitchen and living room area, there only was one bedroom and a smaller room, once designed to host another bedroom, that was now Kadar's _office_. The fourth room held a large bathroom, cluttered with all kinds of items that did not really belong there, as Malik often times registered.

Kadar had always had a monochrome taste when it came to decoration and interior design. The windows were big and allowed a nice view over the street from the tenth floor of his apartment building. Do Kadar's dismay, Malik had denied the offer to rent or buy an apartment in this building too so that the two brothers could be close together again. He loved his brother dearly, but he loved him a lot more from farther away.

Unlike Kadar, Malik preferred white painted walls. Kadar's were almost entirely gray with specks of dark blue here and there. The large leather sofa that took up way too much space for Malik's liking stood out quite nicely from the light gray of the wooden floorboards with its old looking black leather and the dark blue carpet in the center of the seating area gave it a nice little touch and a bit more personality. To him it was still odd, that his brother had decided on all these little details himself, for usually Kadar could not be bothered with stuff like this and Malik was pretty sure that he had just stolen pictured from the internet and gave them to the person who had done all this. Knowing his brother for such a long time, this apartment was too clean cut to even remotely resemble his little brother's personality at all. And yet it suited him. The simplicity of the small white kitchen, the elegance of the larger gray metallic dinner table, the white breakfast bar were still his cereal box from last morning stood and waited to be put away - and of course the fake plants. All of that screamed _Kadar Al-Sayf_.

» _You know_ , Kadar, if all those people would know how Altaїr really is, they would not care for him in the slightest bit. And just watch him. Now he might be famous, now people might want to have him on their programs, but soon even his light will slowly die off and people will forget about him again.« Malik said as he threw the remote back at his brother and Kadar, despite his usual clumsiness, caught it in midair. Well, if it meant he could go back to his crappy telly, he would do all kinds of tricks.

»You are such a party pooper.«

»Yeah, and you really should have a look at your damn script, _Mercutio_.« Even after one full season of his brother playing the role of Mercutio in their little TV Drama, Malik still found it odd. It was fitting, though. Mercutio was Romeo's best friend and Kadar ... Well, Kadar was not Altaїr's best friend, but at least he was his number one fan - probably because even after all these years, Kadar still did not manage to see the real Altaїr behind all this tam-tam. »You better do a decent job this time around otherwise your head will be on the chopping blog sooner than we think. Do not forget, Mercutio dies - it's a matter of your work how fast this day will come.«

As Malik left his brother's apartment he felt uneasy and could not even tell why that was. As he walked the streets of L.A. he came across so many beautiful people that it was hard not to gag. People from all around the world would stream into Los Angeles every year, desperate to become the next big thing in Hollywood but none of them really knew what that truly meant to them and their perhaps once ordinary lives.

He had always dreamed of becoming an actor. He had always chosen his roles with great caution and he had loved every bit of it - not because of the fans or the media because it was his passion. He did not care much for popularity, _Instagram_ followers, likes on _Facebook_ , or how many times his photo was printed in a magazine. He cared for the art and he cared for not being able to pursue his career the way he wanted to because of people like Altaїr, who would snatch a role from him just because.

It was not the first time.

Altaїr Ibn-La’Ahad was his curse since their first movie together. _The End is Where We Begin_ was supposed to have been the game changer in his career and although it had been, although he had been asked to play a role in big movies afterwards and although his popularity had grown immensely because of that movie, he had conjured up a little demon plaguing his very existence ever since. It was not easy for an actor with his heritage in Hollywood anyway. The movie industry still liked to whitewash certain roles and characters and so there were only a handful of roles and opportunities for people with a complexion as his to play. He had managed to land a few major hits, had been the guest in many TV Shows, his face smiling or scowling from the covers of magazines all over the city and there had been days when he could not have walked through the city without a bodyguard to protect him from all too eager fans. Now he could and the reason for it was none other than Altaїr Ibn-La-fucking-Ahad.

For Hollywood the boy was perfect. When Malik would often hear that his skin was too dark or his features too harsh, Altaїr would perfectly fit. Even his brother with his blue eyes was extremely popular and only growing in popularity as well. Kadar was a sunny boy and unlike Altaїr it was not just a facade he put up for the audience. However, Kadar’s world was television. He did not much care for big movies. TV Shows were the new thing anyway, as his brother liked to remind him in using series as _Game of Thrones_ , _The Walking Dead_ or _Breaking Bad_  as his most favored examples to make his case.

As he walked down the street, TVs in the windows of some shops showed the late night show with John McGuffin and Altaїr. However, while Malik did his best not to look at it, he found himself stopping at a newspaper booth instead, just a few feet down the road from Kadar's apartment. Altaїr's stupid face was grinning from one of the colorful covers and for whatever reason, Malik found himself picking up the magazine, buying it and walking off.

When he had first met Altaїr, six years ago at the age of twenty-four, he had found a liking to the twenty-year-old actor, a kindred spirit maybe even. To this day, Malik had still not figured out entirely what it had been that connected them, but he had felt a certain kind of bond back then. They had been getting along quite fine which had made the scenes for them as lovers a lot more easy to begin with, but their blossoming friendship had soon ended after the release of the movie. Maybe it had been jealousy taking over his mind, it really was almost impossible to say.

※※※※※※※

The TV was still on in the background even though none of them looked at it and the noise filled the room like the soothing sound of waves crashing against the shoreline. The living room was dark, but comfortable enough for the purpose it had, with a few colorful rugs laying strewn across the hardwood floor. Connor just stared at his father and his father stared back at him. They sat like this for a few minutes already, longer than Connor actually knew but neither of them wanted to give up and start talking first because that would mean surrender in the eyes of the enemy.

Maybe for other families, a thought like this would be weird, but all members of the Kenway family regularly changed between being a loving family and the most gruesome of enemies. It was just what they did - other families took stupid photos for the yearly Christmas cards, they portrayed their resentment for one another with the greatest passion they all could muster.

While Altaїr's blabbering and the cheering of the TV audience were the only sound that filled the room, Connor's dog shifted uneasily beside him as he leaned his head on Connor's leg and only looked at Haytham from time to time, not knowing whether to protect his beloved owner from his very own father or not. Connor had always loved big dogs, so it was no wonder that he was now owning a beautiful white and grey husky. He was three years old and almost never left his side. The dog, Liam, was exactly the type of faithful companion he had ever wanted.

»Connor« His father finally broke the silence between them, but his blue eyes remained fixed on his son's face unmoving and unflinching, almost like a robot. Sometimes Connor was not even sure if his father was indeed human. One could never be too sure. »I believe you understand that it is time to start a serious career.«

»I do have a serious career. I am an actor.« Connor wasted no time to clarify his standpoint right away, after all, he knew his father. He had had the pleasure of growing up alongside this man, whose hair started to gray with each day more and more since Connor had hit puberty.

»That is not exactly what I had in mind.«

»I am aware.«

His father's cold stare became almost something like a glare, as he cleared his throat. »As a Kenway it is your duty to follow the traditions of our family and that includes joining the family business. You are my oldest son, you are the heir of our legacy, our estates and our companies.«

As if he would have ever been able to forget something like this. How was he supposed to forget who he was growing up as he did? »I am aware of that too.«

Again silence fell upon them as Connor leaned back in his position with his arms crossed defiantly and his father perfectly mirrored him as he himself slumped back into the sofa cushions opposite Connor, still staring at him. They were much too similar to have a somewhat decent conversation and Connor was acutely aware of that. They both were incredibly headstrong and stubborn. They both had their own ideals and views on the world, their own dreams and passions and neither of them was willing to let go of any of that. His father knew how Connor was. He knew how his son liked to live and that he found no interest in doing what his father was doing. He was his own man and he wanted to pursue his passions.

»You are twenty years old, Connor, I do not expect you to-«

»Father please.« Connor tried to interrupt him, but to no avail of course.

»I do not expect you to fully grasp the severity of this yet.«

»I do.«

»No, you don't, otherwise you would not argue with me now, son. I will not stand by and watch how you waste your life and your opportunities like this because you want to play pretend.« Finally the tone had grown a lot sharper than before.

»I am an _actor_ , Dad, I don't just play pretend. You would know that if you would have ever watched something I'm in. I did everything you ever wanted me to do. I used my summer breaks to do an internship at the company to learn about it, I took extra classes at school to learn French, Italian and German, I graduated as the best of my year and in the remaining free time I had, I visited drama school and landed my first major successes. What are you so angry about?« Connor was not exactly the type to brag and listing his achievements had always felt weird and somewhat wrong to him, but he also knew that this was the only way to talk to his father that the old man could truly understand.

»Well, though I do congratulate you on your successes, boy, I am angry because I believe that you still don't understand why I made you take these classes and how urgent it is for you to finally leave this acting career behind.«

»I don't want to leave it behind! That is what I like to do, Father! I don't want to take over the business, I want to be an actor and that's it. Why won't you just let me do this? I'm sure Gramps does not have a problem with it. He always told me that I should follow my dreams and that nothing else matters.«

»Your grandfather is a dreamer himself, that's why he would tell you something like this. You two are way too much alike anyway. Connor, I will not say this twice. I let you finish off this season of the show, but after that you will stop pursuing this path and join the company. If you don't you leave me no other choice than to disown you once and for all.«

※※※※※※※

A heavenly smell washed through the room. The smell of a certain au de cologne hanging in the air mixed with the scent of freshly washed towel and a very sweet dark red wine. »I still think you would be way better suited for this role.« Ezio mumbled, although he tried not to. It was hard not to mumble with his face pressed into his pillow as he lay naked on his stomach in his way too large bed, his eyes still closed a little moment longer, while he tried just to take in the smells around him and the sounds that no one but him was allowed to hear. Leo did not like when he would mumble though - that was why he mostly did it, but now there were no bad intentions behind his mumbling, only exhaustion. He felt heavenly tired, but Leonardo, as always, was far from being tired.

»Maybe.« Leonardo chuckled from behind him and as Ezio finally moved enough to have a look over his shoulder, propping himself up on his left elbow on the heavenly soft double mattress, he saw Leonardo's blue eyes piercing his own from behind the large canvas that almost completely obscured his body from side. »You really shouldn't move so much.« Leonardo chided him with a playful gesture of his paintbrush, before his eyes flew back to the canvas and to the painting that stole his attention again, but Ezio remained like this anyway. He always enjoyed seeing Leonardo work. He loved the little wrinkles on his forehead when he needed to concentrate, the little huffs and hums when he disliked something or was incredibly pleased with the result of his work - but now he was tired of lying around. He was aching for a shower. And although it was pleasantly warm inside the bedroom, he felt a little cold with just a piece of the silken sheet lying sprawled across his backside, half entangled with his left leg.

»So why haven't you auditioned then?« Ezio quietly continued the topic, even though Leonardo preferred silence while working. For the most part of his life, Ezio had never been too fond of being painted, no matter in what fashion and he recalled the day as his parents had forced him to sit still for hours on end to have his portrayed painted in oil to this day - probably because it had been the first day he had seen Leonardo da Vinci.

»Isn't this a little late to ask me? « Leonardo hummed. »You are already working on season two, Ezio - excuse me, Pater Lorenzo. It's not like I could jump in right now, can I? Plus, I am no actor, don't forget this.«

With a sigh, Ezio sat up on the bed and rolled his eyes at the comment. The sheet was now the only thing hiding his groin from sight - not that he would care, as he leaned against the cushioned white headboard of his large bed. His interior was extravagant - just how he liked it. Altaїr would sometimes bitch about his choice of decoration when he came to visit, while Desmond would not dare to touch anything. Well, he had grown up in an Italian noble family with roots so old that the whole of Italy seemed to know his name and a family tree so large that they could trace back their family easily to the renaissance and the nobility of Florence during that period in history. Of course, his taste was a little more extravagant than that of others. The draperies were made out of damask and silk, beautiful in their different shades of crème and gold, his sheets were pure silk, white and shiny, gold threads were woven into the cover of his quilted white headboard and a golden chandelier dangled from the high ceiling over his bed. This bedroom alone would make any woman swoon, even though it was quite plain in color, only whites and gold, a few splashes of a rather soft dark red here and there. For the rest of his family this room would be almost too plain. »You know my part and my lines better than I do!«

»Yes, that is because I have to practice with you every day and beat you with the script you big oaf. Now, if you would lie back down, I could finish my work - _What are you doing?_ « However, Ezio already got up from the bed, climbing down like a cat and very well aware that Leonardo's eyes would roam over his naked form without even the hint of shame on his face or the decency to at least blush a little at the unruly sight.

»I am going to take a shower.« Ezio grinned as he walked towards Leo and made sure that he would walk in a way that would make it impossible for Leonardo not to forget his painting. Behind the artist the door to the bathroom stood wide open and allowed him a look inside. »Without you if you rather work - which would be a shame.« He added, before he planted a kiss on Leonardo’s left cheek, but not caring too much for the painting his lover was working on. Tomorrow he needed to be presentable again - for the ladies mostly.

»I think you manage just fine without me, _Bello_.« Leonardo snorted, but not without pinching his nose for the little attack beforehand. »And do not forget to answer your mother. She called you three times today, asking about the women. You need to decide, Ezio.«

A sigh escaped his scarred lips as he straightened his back again and finally risked a glance on the canvas. His friend was awfully talented - and of course this painting would bring him even more money and fame than Leonardo could handle. That was why his friend would probably never display it anywhere. Such a shame. »I do not wish to marry, Leo. I told you so. I am perfectly fine the way it is.« He knew that Leonardo understood what he meant, that he would take it as the compliment it was meant to be and yet sometimes he was afraid to lose his best friend and lover because of the traditions and because of the pressure his family and the media had on them.

»And yet you have to choose, _Amore._ Do not forget who you are.«

※※※※※※※

The bar was as lively as it always were and not at all as lively as it could be. Desmond hardly felt anywhere as at home as he did in this bar. With his nineteen years of age he was of course not allowed to drink yet (officially), but he was allowed to mix drinks and that was something he could greatly enjoy. What he did not enjoy were noisy girls trying to distract him from his work and secret passion.

»You have to introduce me to him, Dessy.« The girl in pink sighed as she took a sip from her martini glass and showed him a picture on her phone. He was used to seeing his best friend naked by now, so he did not even flinch as he was confronted with it yet again while preparing another drink for another stranger sitting on one of the plain dark wood barstools.

»Nope, don't have to, don't want to.« Desmond kept his replies as nonchalant and short as possible towards his customers and friends, no matter how uncomfortable it sometimes felt. This way it was easier to keep a certain sense of distance to anyone. This way it was also a lot harder to make friends. He hardly knew that girl, although she was a regular at the bar, and although Desmond was pretty sure that she was way too young to be here at all. But hell, who was he to judge? She had shown him her ID once and though he was sure it was fake, it was enough for him and his boss to sell her overpriced drinks if that was what she wanted. Her name was Brittany, he believed, but she was one of the young girls who came to this very bar mostly because she was trying to get into contact with _stars_ \- whatever that really meant. She was only one of the many, many young girls and boys who ran away from home to become the next big thing in Hollywood, thinking her good looks and fake tits alone would bring her a star on the Hollywood boulevard. Of course, as she had first set a foot in this very bar, she had immediately produced a high pitched scream at the sight of Desmond and ever since tried to get him into a compromising position almost every week.

»You are such a meanie, Dessy.« Brittany whined as she leaned her chin on the heel of her left hand, pressing down her upper body onto the black wood of the bar so that he had a decent enough look straight into her décolleté - if he wanted to - and started circling the rim of her martini glass with her right index finger, while her big blue eyes relentlessly rested upon Desmond's face and her fake, dyed blonde hair pooled around her shoulders in messy curls. She was certainly not ugly, but absolutely everything, from her dyed hair, to her nails, her extensions and breasts up to her choice of clothing and her eyelashes screamed _fake_ at him. Maybe underneath all this plastic and bullshit, this fitted attitude and fake smile, there was a nice girl buried deep down, and Desmond would have loved to meet and befriend that exact, but sadly buried, girl.

»Yeah, I know.« Desmond replied with a lopsided grin as he threw a small glance at his boss who stood to his left and was talking to one of their regulars. »I have that reputation, that's why I do not have many friends - so I have to keep those I do have close.«

»I could be your friend.« _Yes, of course, you could_ , he thought to himself as he tried not to snort at her ridiculous attempts of flirting and shoved the drink he had been preparing to a young man who sat to his right hand side. He came here almost every day after work. _As long as I have money and buy you everything you want, honey_. _Love_ in the City of Angels was as superficial and fake as most of the people roaming these streets. He was very young still with his nineteen years and he had not had much time for love in his life up until this point anyway, but he had had his fair share of affairs and heartbreak already. He had had his fair share of instances when he had fallen for someone head over heels only to discover that he was being tricked and exploited for his money and fame. Maybe he was naive. He would not even try to deny this, but growing up on a farm far away from the big cities, seemed to go hand in hand with being a titbit naive.

Even though he chose his reply carefully this time, it still came out a little more insulting as he had planned to. »Sorry, I am more for the natural type.« And even a girl like Brittany could understand this _hint_. Apparently a little offended she leaned back in her seat before she got up and chucked the contents of her martini glass straight in his face before she rushed out of the bar in a hue of pink and glitter.

»Well, that didn't go as planned.« At least his fellow barman and owner of the establishment had a laugh at his expense, but Desmond too could only grin at Jim, as he grabbed his dish towel to rub the alcohol from his face with a little grimace. It was not the first time that something like this would happen to him and it would not be the last time either.

»You better not laugh. Just imagine the scandal if the police would find me here, with my tender nineteen years, reeking of booze!« He grinned before he patted his boss’s shoulder and took off his black apron. »I think I'm done for tonight anyway. Thanks for having me tonight.«

»You know, you are still always welcome here, _Tybalt_.« Desmond was used to being teased by Jim by now. And he did not mind anyway. Almost everyone who knew him would tease him about his role in the TV Drama, but Desmond actually liked the role.

But even though he quite liked his boss Jim, he was aware of the why his boss let him work there despite his young age. His face brought people to the bar that usually would not come here. It was no scene club, no big flashy bar at the best location, only a plain dark room with old wooden tables and chairs, reeking of beer and cigarettes - but it was his home, somehow. Here he had started working as he had been old enough to do so and left his parents’ home in Black Hills.

His first acting job had been born out of pure coincidence triggered by his coincidental similarities in looks to Altaїr Ibn-La’Ahad even when he had only been a kid of 13 years. Those similarities were still there, of course, but they had lessened as he had grown up. Back then he had never quite thought about becoming an actor, only that he wanted to leave the farm and do something different with his life than his parents. He had had a few roles here and there over the course of the last six years, nothing too major, but as he had started working here with sixteen in earnest, it had not taken long until some random dude came to him with a business card, asking him if he had ever thought about modeling before. And now here he was. A star - or something like that - even though he had never asked to become one. He had been perfectly fine with just working as a barkeeper.

Well, then again, he could have just denied the offer, he guessed, but he did not. Needless to say that he still did not quite know why he had not denied the offer.

As he was walking down the boulevard he walked past large shop windows with big ass TV’s showing Altaїr's latest appearance on some late night show for which Desmond did not care enough to remember the name. It was way past midnight, but the city only came alive for real a few hours ago and was now booming and bursting with life and colors, with people running around and just enjoying their existence - some hoping to be found by model agents, perhaps. The people in these streets did not have any shame, they were loud and noisy and showed off what they thought to be talents without thinking too much about it. Everything in the name of becoming a star. Desmond almost felt pity for them, but then he felt more pity for himself and people like him. Those who just wanted to become a star did not know what it really meant and what the cost of all of this might be.

Tomorrow, he thought, he would walk on set again, chitchat with his best friend about his appearance on TV that he had not seen and did not care for, would offend Altaїr with this and try having a good time with his colleagues.

After his first role together with Altaїr, as he had played Altaїr's little brother, he had never thought to be able to work with him again and now they were all here again. Together. It was odd. They had all changed over the last six years. Most of them had been children and were now adults, and yet there was a certain sense of familiarity still.

And yet, no matter that he would call Altaїr his best friend, he hardly knew him. In the end, they were all just strangers. Lonely wolves who would roam these streets in the City of Angels in search for something better and maybe even a glimpse of real love.

※※※※※※※

As a child, he had never dared to dream of anything, except for the things his mother told him to dream of. It was not as if he had not had a will of his own, a desire of his own, a passion of his own, only that he had not been allowed to follow it. From the first day of his life to Altaїr it had been obvious, that he would bring the glory that his mother had never had the opportunity to experience herself. And if anything, he would do so to make his mother proud, to make her look at him with a fond smile and for once not with disappointment in his entire being.

These days, Altaїr refused going back to his childhood home. Too many memories were connected with this large house. Memories that were not necessarily bad or traumatic, but dangerous to the path he was walking, the very thin line he tried to never cross. His whole life was a charade and that was why he was so good in the things he was doing, he guessed. To the world, he was Altaїr Ibn-La’Ahad, the son of two great actors who had inherited his parents’ talents and good looks, the formal attitude, and mannerisms of his British mother and the exotic feel of his Syrian father. The best of two worlds. His parents’ marriage was a tale straight out of Arabian nights for those old enough to still remember the scandal and headlines of that time.

And while Altaїr was aware of the truth behind all of this and how he came to be, the world preferred to look at him and his family in a much more romantic, yes fatuous way.

The world had loved him from the start for his story had already been a tragic one. His father already dead, his mother heartbroken in a foreign country, like a captured princess. The media had praised her and her courage, her strong will and independence in such a tough situation and he had been the brightest star at the firmament ever since, growing up surrounded by the press, growing up more afraid of the sound of roaring thunder than of the lightning bolts of the paparazzi waiting outside his home. His every move had been documented, his every step exploited.

The world had watched him growing up as Josh Johnson in _Keeping up with the Johnsons_ from the tender age of three until he had stopped when he had turned ten. His character had died in a tragic little accident, when he had not listened to his parents and decided to go ice-skating on a frozen pond only to drown in the icy waters in that very year and changed the tone for the sitcom to a more dramatic and bitter one for a short period of time until everyone had forgotten about poor little Josh. He remained a warning for the kids watching the show, for if little Josh, the secret hero of the show with his loud-mouthy and bratty attitude, could die like this, they could fall prey to the same fate if they would not listen to their parents.

Josh Johnson was the role most people still connected him with, although he had grown up quite a bit from being the annoying little brat he had been forced to portray, leading people all over the country to believe that he himself had been like this too. Oh, how very awestruck they had been as they had first heard him talk in his real accent years later and started to understand that he was not that little boy that had been responsible for the William’s family car crashing into the bins on Forester Road. If asked about it, Altaїr's response was always the same. He had left the role behind to focus on his education more because with growing screen time it had become increasingly harder to focus on his school.

The truth was much more different though and one, Altaїr did not like to talk about either.

»I would not have thought that you would go back to television.« His mother sighed as she finally turned off the TV in the living room and condemned the large room to almost complete darkness like this. Only a few lamps were still bringing a bit of light to the room, while Altaїr was busying his fingers as he played with one of the larger snow globes his mother was collecting, standing on a shelf close to the large windows. A whole bunch of them she had gotten from her only son over the course of his life. He had never been good in standing still and being patient.

»Yeah, me neither. But then again, I would not have thought you would marry again after Dad and yet you did so thrice.  How is Daniel by the way?« He had not the sense of decency to turn around to face his mother as they spoke and even if he would, he knew that his mother would be looking at something different anyway already. Probably she was scrolling on her phone through Twitter to see what people were posting about his appearance on that show - or rather if her name would come up in some of these posts related to him.

Outside the large windows of his mother's studio apartment in the heart of Los Angeles, the night hung low above the City of Angels and even the brightest stars in Hollywood were not able to outshine their counterparts high above them. Altaїr hated this city with a passion and he loathed being here, but his mother, of course, felt at home in this city where people still recognized her on the streets even though she was hardly in the spotlight anymore.

»How would I know? Last time I've seen him was half a year ago. I believe he has a fling with a young model now.« His mother replied and he could see the nonchalant wave of her hand in her reflection in the mirror. »It's still an enigma to me why you wanted to do this show so desperately with all these mediocre actors. I mean, really, Altaїr, you had so many job offers and yet you decided to audition for playing Romeo yet again.«

Yes, most actors were happy to leave behind _Romeo and Juliet_ for good when they became a little more involved in the industry, he guessed. »It's a good role and it's a good show. I like it.«

»Well, I’m not saying it's not good, but it's only good because you are in it, no matter what others might say. Don’t be humble, Altaїr, you won't get very far like this. You could have had a better role in a better movie. But TV, oh no, that's going back three steps.« Sometimes he was not sure if his mother really wanted the best for him, or if she just wanted to have her way. But Altaїr, being the good son, rather believed in the good of her.

»I saw the cast and I liked it.« He huffed.

His mother produced one of those high pitched little laughs he hated so passionately. »You hardly know those people, no matter what you say during those late night talk shows and no matter how many selfies you take with them - They are not going to be your friends.«

»I know, mother. But you do know that even in this business friendships are possible, right?«

»Not that I would be aware of.« She scoffed. »Altaїr, don't be naive. Those other boys you like so much are below you and they envy you for your success. You will see how they will start clinging to you in hopes to get bigger themselves this way. Mind my words, Darling. They will try to exploit you and in the end, you will be the one who is going to be left behind.«


	3. Chapter 3

The orders were simple enough most of the time and Altaїr, to his luck, had always been good in remembering his lines and following orders. Maybe that was at least one reason why producers liked working with him so much since he had developed a certain sense of self and character – or to put it straight: since puberty had hit him with a truck. Of course, as he had started out in this business, he had been so little, that it had been a lot harder to learn his lines - but he had had not as many as he had now anyway. Back in the day, his acting career had mostly consisted out of witty one-liners and silly faces. He liked the hectic environment and the little well-planned and well-organized chaos that always ruled over the set of any movie or TV show he had ever been to. He enjoyed watching every little cogwheel of this great machine working and clicking together perfectly and without delay. This was his life, for almost the entirety of the last twenty-three years. He knew how the business worked, he knew how important everyone in the production team was, from the man who delivered the catering, to the cleaners, up to the producers and actors. It needed everyone and so it was important to have a certain sense of trust among this large group of strangers.

However, in the TV production of _Romeo and Juliet_ , trust was a very stretchable word, apparently.

The flashing lights of cameras, the screams of fans, the presents and flowers and letters could be blinding. The red carpet looked beautifully to the outside world and though Altaїr liked walking the red carpet, he knew what was lying beneath and he could see the mud and the stains. Yet it was his job to always put a smile on his face and wave for the fans that would await him alongside the red carpet, eager to get a glimpse of their favorite.

The truth was, however, that he had never planned to audition for the role of Romeo Montague in the first place. That he got the role had only been an accident if one was to ask him. As he had first heard of this TV show from his agent, he had not even thought about accepting a role in this Drama. He had played Romeo before, as almost every male in this business had at one point and he had not been all too eager to go back to it. So, what had changed? In an interview, Altaїr would say that it was the cast which had changed his perception and that he had wanted to play alongside those people again that he had grown to like in the past. He knew Desmond, Ezio, Connor, Kadar, Malik, and Maria for a long time now. He had played a couple with Maria before in _The secret Crusade_ , and the guys he had known since his reprised role in the Drama _The End is Where We Begin_ as the oldest of four brothers that had to fend for themselves in this cruel world.

However, if he would be asking himself what had made him take on this role, the real reason would be Malik Al-Sayf. Yes, he liked the guys. He was good friends with all of them, or at least they would call it that, for there was no such thing as real friendships in this shiny world. Yes, he liked Desmond a lot, but would he ever expose himself to him? Would he ever tell him his darkest secrets? Would he ever talk in earnest with him? The answer to these questions was easy and Altaїr doubted that Desmond Miles would be naive enough not to know this just as he did. Oh, he was aware that Desmond would probably not tell anyone if Altaїr were to go to him to tell him some dirty little secret. Of all his friends, Desmond was the most trustworthy, but he was still so very young and Altaїr needed to be cautious with his secrets if he did not wish for them to be exposed. Living like this was not easy. Although he had fun working with Connor, Desmond, Ezio and Kadar again, he would not have taken the role if it would only be for working with them. He had declined a major movie role for this one, after all. No. However, as soon as he had learned that Malik Al-Sayf was auditioning for the role of Romeo Montague, he had called his agent and told him that he wanted this role.

He had not even wasted a second thought about it.

»Wow« Kadar sighed as he came to a halt next to Altaїr, little crumbs of ice flying everywhere as the skids of his skates cut through the ice. Kadar was already out of breath, but that was not that big of a surprise considering that the youngster would spend most of his time loafing around in front of his TV, playing games or watching soap operas. »You really hate my brother, don't you?«

The rink was empty except for them. Altaїr just hummed an answer, but he did not really say a thing. Was it hate what he felt towards Malik? Maybe. Anger? Perhaps. He did not really know what it was that he felt towards Malik. He could not really tell. Telling apart emotions could be hard in this business under normal circumstances. »He is my rival, I should hate him.« But of course, Kadar's large, owlish eyes rested upon his face, before he seemed to grasp what Altaїr meant and started to chuckle.

»Yes, but only in the show he is your rival.« He grinned as he nudged Altaїr against the shoulder. »And as long as you two are not really fighting over Maria, there is no reason to hate him, right?«

»Isn't there?« The question was directed at himself for the most part and lingered in the air for a moment, but before Kadar could even try to figure out an answer, Altaїr moved away from the railing again that surrounded the ice. He was not here to chat. He was here to do his workout and Kadar, though he was a nice guy, was standing in his way at the moment. He had nothing against a little bit of company during his workout, but there was a reason why he preferred to have the ice to himself and he could, most definitely, not use someone like Kadar tagging along all the time with big eyes and nervous ticks like a squirrel on the hunt for nuts in late autumn. He needed to focus, to concentrate and maybe just a little time to himself even.

Gladly, Kadar did not look as much like his big brother. Kadar, incredibly, looked like a six-year-old in comparison to his older brother with his soft features and his large blue eyes. He had never seen the young man grow out stubbles at the very least, which was odd if one was to ask Altaїr. Kadar was only twenty years of age and most young men his age tended to show off their newfound adulthood and masculinity with a proper mustache. Apparently, Kadar was still not able to grow a beard, while Malik, his older brother, had a face as sharp as cliff towering over the raging sea during a storm, with a patch of dark hair on his chin at all times. Altaїr, on the other hand, grew hair absolutely everywhere and almost ridiculously fast. Still, for a moment longer Altaїr's thoughts lingered on Malik and his dark brown eyes which always spoke of danger and a deeply buried grudge - at least when he would look at Altaїr. Perhaps this old grudge was the reason why they were working together so believable as rivals during this project. The fans loved them and he was pretty sure he would find rather pornographic material if he would ever dare to search for their names on _Tumblr_. He wondered what their _ship-name_ would be. »I think _Count Paris_ suits your brother just fine.« Altaїr then stated as he paused for a second longer. »Besides, I still don't get why he of all people auditioned for this role. What does he even know about love? He would have made a poor Romeo.«

Maybe he was unfair, but Kadar, gladly, was a very humorous young man and so he took his words as a joke and not as seriously as he really meant them while Altaїr's mind already ventured towards the party which they would attend this night. They would all be there, of course, and there was nothing he could do about it. In no way he would be able to excuse himself tonight, he mused, as he was slowly drifting across the wide plane of ice, enjoying the moment of freedom and solitude. No paparazzi eager to take his picture, no fans lurking in the back, no one to nag him about jobs and money. Tonight he would show off his usual self. He would smile widely, grin mischievously, and be more charming than he had ever been. He would make sure that the guests inside and the press and the paparazzi outside would love him even more than they already did. This was his job, after all, and tonight he would shine. Surely, his mother would be proud to see him thrive.

It had been her dream to become a big star in Hollywood and though she had been one during her time and youth, now, the world seemed to have all but forgotten about her - and his father. It was sad, yes, but all the more reason for him to become even bigger, his name even greater. He would make sure that the entire world would know his name. Even if it meant stealing roles from Malik Al-Sayf for the rest of his career. He would outshine all of them.

※※※※※※※

Malik was not a big fan of these parties and quite frankly, he had not even wanted to join in on the fun. He had been tempted to throw away his invitation as he had gotten it, but his brother had forced him to come. His mind, however, was too occupied with the most recent events and developments in his life. Maybe this behavior of his was quite odd for an actor. Usually, actors tended to be a lot more outgoing and fun loving, as was evident by the colleagues he surrounded himself with as of late. He, on the other hand, could not care less about events such as this one because for him this whole thing was just ridiculous and absurd. It was more of a burden to come here, to be friendly, nice and likable.

»Malik, stop frowning. You look like you want to murder me.« HIs brother hissed as he was waving to the cameras with the biggest grin ever on his stupid childish face. It did not really matter if there was a red carpet, an official event or just some masque like this at the Auditore mansion, wherever they went, the paparazzi would already be there and Kadar was born for the limelight. He had always been this type of kid. Kadar had always known how to be the center of attention, unlike his older brother. Odd, really, after all, it had been Malik who started acting first and Kadar, as always, had just tried to imitate him and tag along, gaining popularity on his way to stardom. Then again, it should not come as a surprise to Malik, really. He, after all, was the first-born son of a very strict Muslim couple. His father was the imam of their little community and Malik had felt the weight of their beliefs and their expectations all his life. Kadar, on the other hand, had never felt this burden. He had been allowed to be free and to be himself, and, quite frankly, Malik had resented him for his carefree life for a very long time.

»I _do_ want to murder you.« He replied as calm as he could possibly muster as the cameras were flashing and blinding them. They had just climbed out of their car, but by now this whole debacle was second nature and the flashing lights could hardly surprise him anymore. »That's somewhat like a constant state I'm in since you were born, but the frowning, well, that's just how my face looks.«

»Maybe you should consider transplantation then - or quit acting.« If there were no cameras out here and no overly enthusiastic screaming fans on the other side of the street, maybe he would have attacked Altaїr right there at the spot. Malik liked to believe that it was hard for everyone to keep their calm when Altaїr was around. He just had a very punchable face and the mask he was now wearing did not help this fact at all. As always, Altaїr liked to overdo things. His costume was ridiculous even by his standards, but Malik did not waste the time to ask him what he tried to portray. He knew what he tried to portray and that he was now stealing costumes from the set only made it worse. Well, but there he was: Romeo Montague himself, dressed in the black and white renaissance costume that he had worn at the masque they had shot in the first season, the upper half of his stupid face obscured by the mask he was wearing and that was made to portray an eagle with large brownish feathers and a golden-yellow beak that looked almost sharp to him. Malik could only guess that he would not be the only eagle tonight.

»Maybe you should consider shutting your face.« The words escaped him with a smile as Altaїr moved to his side and waved for the cameras. For the world, they all were the best of friends - of course - and so Malik put his right hand on Altaїr's left shoulder and squeezed it, maybe a little hard, so that the paparazzi could get a good shot of them together. He did not dare to deny their fans a little bit of food every now and again. Altaїr had arrived just before them and from their car, Malik had been able to see Altaїr's car arrive in front of the mansion. Ezio's mansion still had no proper driveway beyond the large gates that led from the street towards the house, but he had promised that he was working on it. There was some kind of problem with the authorities apparently. Otherwise, they would have escaped the Paparazzi tonight.

Malik detested it to be driven around by some bimbo, really, but when it came to events such as this one, it was what he had to deal with. Kadar liked to remind him that this way they could at least get stupidly drunk and would not have to worry about driving, later on, only to be reminded by Malik that they were Muslim and that getting drunk was not an option - not so much because of their religious faith and mostly because of their mother. She would whoop their asses if she would ever find out.

»Oh, come on, boys, we are all friends here, right?« Maria Thorpe was as naive as she was beautiful, as she emerged from the sidelines, where she had been occupied with signing autographs apparently. She fitted her role as Juliet Capulet perfectly, and apparently, she liked to play the angel tonight, though Malik was sure, that she had tried her best to find out how Altaїr would dress tonight so she would be able to find something that would match him. She would have probably stolen her own costume from the set as well if she had known. Well, the wings she was wearing and the beautiful flowing white chiffon dress fitted her appearance quite nicely, although Malik would never go as far as to call her an angel. Maybe the saddest part about all of this was, that everyone could see that she was hopelessly in love with Altaїr - only Altaїr was unable to see this, or he was just trying to act blind. And of course, she hoped for a happy ending for her little love story with the renowned actor. She dreamed of becoming the next power couple of Hollywood together with Altaїr. That poor, naive thing. Then again, Malik reckoned that she would follow Altaїr to the end of the world, no matter what, and for that, he could deem himself lucky, even though he did not deserve someone like Maria Thorpe.

»What? We are getting along perfectly, don't we, Mal?« Altaїr laughed as he put his arm around Maria's shoulders and started moving again. He clearly enjoyed the limelight, especially now with her at his side. To Altaїr it did not really matter how she might feel for him, as long as she would give him a little more publicity. And really what good-looking young actress could do exactly that if not Maria Thorpe? Altaїr tended to shine brighter with her at his side. Already the press was constantly latching onto every little picture they could get of them together and the show they were pulling off tonight was just what they all had been waiting for. The media loved them and Malik knew that they would be dumb for not playing along. Romeo and Juliet, the star-crossed lovers and lovers in real life, both as beautiful as they were rich and talented. It was every little girl's  dream come true and surely only a matter of time until Altaїr and Maria would out themselves as a couple to the world. Maria seemed eager to do just that, but, oddly enough, it was Altaїr who refused to do so.

»They look good together, don't they?« He heard his brother sigh before they started walking again. It was their job to shake hands and give answers to stupid questions, just as Altaїr and Maria did as they were walking towards the entry of the Auditore mansion. Ezio had always had a certain sense for extravaganza and this party tonight was no exception.

»Of course they do.« Malik replied as he looked after the both of them again. His eyes were glued to the back of Maria's head for just a moment too long, as Maria seemed to notice and threw a small glance over her shoulder. Maybe he was hallucinating, but for a second he was pretty sure that he had seen her blush before Altaїr apparently said something that made her laugh instead.

»I wonder when they will finally come out as a couple.« Kadar sighed and sounded just like the fangirls running after them at all times. »I mean, really, it's just a matter of time, isn't it?«

»Who knows?« He said before he walked up to the entry. The large doors were standing wide open for the arriving guests as they walked down the path towards the house, and already he could hear the music blaring from inside. Good for Ezio, that he had no neighbors living close by.  He did not want to talk to his brother about that topic, even though he would never admit to this feeling. Unlike Kadar, he had never been a big fan of gossiping. Then again, it was no wonder that his brother was like this, wasn't it? They were actors. They were living for the drama and all of them were born liars.

※※※※※※※

He was born for the limelight. He was born for the attention. He was born for the drama, the bling-bling, the extravaganza, and all the pretty people that wanted to get into his pants. That was a truth he had decided to believe early on in his life because that was exactly what his mother had liked to tell him - and why should a mother lie to her only son?

Of course, now, as he was older, he could see through all of this. His mother was an actress and like all actresses and actors, she was a liar - just like him. Sometimes, Altaїr found himself wondering how his life might have turned out if his father had been alive to raise him, instead of dying in some random car crash. Would it have been different? Better, perhaps? Would he not feel like his chest was tightening around his heart all the time when he would wake up next to some random stranger in a hotel room, unable to recall the events that had lead to this exact scenario? Sometimes he wondered, if he, subconsciously, wanted to get caught like this for all the world to see his true self at once.

»Isn't it strange for you to always cover up your British accent?« As Maria gently nudged him in the ribs to get his attention over the loud music and the laughter around them, he almost suffocated on his champagne. Of course, Ezio only bought the _good stuff._ He had a habit of zoning out, but Maria knew this by now and she always liked to poke fun at him because of this habit of his too. It was almost as if, sometimes, she was just waiting for an opportunity.

»Not really.« Altaїr grinned, even though he had never thought about this very question. For him, covering up his real accent was as easy as breathing, as natural as lying. »It's just like acting.«

Maria raised her left eyebrow at that and took a little sip of her champagne. She wasn't much of a drinker. »Only that you do it twenty-four-seven.« She scoffed. »I really don't get why, though, Altaїr. The people know that you are British, why not talk like you would normally?«

»I am half British.« He was eager to correct her quickly and pointed his left index finger close to her pretty little nose. Yes, Maria Thorpe was a beauty and her costume tonight only made this all the more clear even though she, as all people in this mansion, wore a mask - one made of delicate looking white lace. It was obvious that she had not shied away from taking expenses for her costume, while he had simply stolen his from the set. She was gorgeous with her big blue eyes, her full lips, and her dark curls framing her elegantly chiseled face. Her skin was of the purest white, almost like ivory and her figure made every man swoon. But despite all this beauty, she portrayed to the outside world, she was witty and clever too. She was not just some pretty rose like the role she portrayed as Juliet Capulet, she had thorns and Altaїr liked that about her. »I am half Syrian too and yet you do not expect me to speak Arabic or at least with an Arabic accent, right?«

Maria just sighed at this, before she, theatrically, put the back of her left hand to her forehead like she was going to faint at any second now. »Oh, Altaїr…« She made with a voice like melting butter. »Really, we would make a great couple if you would talk like you normally do. We could run around, be posh, elegant, and flamboyant. The world would love us.«

»Oh dear, but the world already loves us, Darling.« Altaїr snickered as he took another sip of his champagne and could not help but brush one loose curl of Maria’s dark mane out of her face and behind her right ear. The tips of his fingers all but caressed her smooth white skin as he did and already he heard the sound of cameras going off. There were only a handful photographers allowed inside, but only for them, Altaїr did his best to put on a good show. That was why they were here after all. Another party, another chance to promote their show, no matter that this was a more private gathering, as Ezio had called it.

Maria made a small approving noise as she brushed her fingers over his left upper arm. Of course, he was aware that she was trying to flirt with him, but she was his friend. He liked her much and that was it. »So, birthday boy, do you have any wish for your big day?« Even though she did not try to give her voice the same seducing tone he was used to by now, it was clear to him what she meant, but he only scoffed and brought a little more distance between their bodies, even though he tried not to let it look like he did.

»It's not my birthday.« He replied swiftly. He could see Connor over Maria's right shoulder. He stood with a group of other people, chatting and apparently enjoying himself. It was always easy to spot Connor. He was huge by now, nothing compared to the sweet boy he had been when they had first met on the set of _The End is Where we begin_ , so many years ago. And even if it would not be for his height, Altaїr only knew one person who would choose a wolf as their mask for a gathering like this. Connor did not drink as it seemed and Altaїr could not even recall having seen him drink alcohol ever before - not even on the rare occasions when Desmond had invited them over and mixed them drinks for practice. Desmond too was not far off. Altaїr saw him with Kadar, Ezio, and Leonardo. Unlike Kadar, Desmond, just like Connor, was not a big fan of parties. It seemed that he had not read that this was a costume party until the last moments, for he simply wore his bartending uniform, a black apron on dark trousers, a white dress shirt, and a fly. That was his costume. That was Desmond. Kadar and Ezio had made a little more effort apparently, but Altaїr was unable to even figure out what they were trying to portray. He was almost sure that Kadar tried to look like a ninja, though. 

»Yet.« Maria grinned. »But you are aware that this is your birthday party, right?«

»This is Ezio's party.« Altaїr again tried to negate. »This is his last party in freedom, as he called it. The last party before he has to marry that woman from Florence, so that his parents won't shun him.«

Maria rolled her eyes as if she was honestly annoyed at his demeanor. Yes, she was one of the people who liked his bubbly self a lot more. Maria had once outright told him that she did not like it when he would be serious or even sarcastic. Most people did not like it when he was serious with something. They liked the clown he often portrayed. »Oh Altaїr, come on. Don't play naive. You are too old to act all innocent and cute.«

»I am innocent and cute.« Altaїr laughed before he downed his champagne and put the glass down on the table they were standing at. Ezio had always been extravagant with his parties and his homes and of course, he had put a lot of effort in this party tonight as well. Altaїr was not dumb. Of course, he knew that this was _his_ party in actuality, that was why Ezio had been circling him like an eagle hunting its prey the entire evening already, always eager that he had a full glass. He was aware that at midnight there would be a giant ass cake for him. Ezio was a flamboyant man and even though some might call him self-centered and arrogant, he did a lot for his friends if he could. If it were for him, Altaїr would have just stayed home and tried not to be him during his birthday. He was not a big fan of birthday celebrations anyway, perhaps because he never had a proper birthday all his life. He had been too occupied with work - or his mom had. He would forget his own birthday if it would not be for people like Ezio.

»Of course you are.« Maria laughed and grabbed his face with her left hand to squeeze his cheeks and his mouth together. She was strong for such a petite woman. »And you still owe me a dance, Romeo.« She then reminded him with a playful nod towards the dance floor where couples were circling the parquet elegantly.

»I'm aware, but first I need to take a piss.« He did not even bother to somehow mask his words more eloquently or elegantly, for then he would never be able to get Maria to understand and escape her.

»But it's almost midnight!« She frowned.

»Well, I could pee my pants instead, if you insist.«

Suddenly, with a small laugh, she shoved her left hand against his right shoulder in an attempt to get him to move. »Go already!«The truth was that he was glad to get away from Maria just for a moment, that he was glad to get away from the party for a moment. It was loud and hot down there - too hot for January. That was only one other thing he disliked about L.A., the weather. Yes, most people liked the warmth that ruled over California most of the time, but he hated it. He liked the winter, he liked snow, but for the longest time, he had not seen snow. It did not feel like his birthday and he would rather just climb out one of the windows and escape before the real party would start at midnight. He was, of course, used to the limelight and to be the center of attention, but, oddly enough, he did not desire this - or at least not tonight.

Ezio's house had a great many bathrooms on every floor as if he was adamant to make sure that every one of his many guests would be able to go take a wee at any time without interference. Still, Altaїr's feet did not carry him to any of those bathrooms as he left the hall, the ballroom, as Ezio called it, where the party mainly took place. He sneaked out of the hall and into the great foyer where the formal staircase led to the first floor and the gallery that was overlooking the entrance hall. Upstairs two additional staircases spread like wings to the right and left, leading to the second floor of the large mansion. The first-floor gallery was supported by heavy white stone columns, reminding everyone who came to visit of the grandioso of the late Roman Empire or the Renaissance, perhaps. Ezio's house was big and pompous and every single room screamed of the riches of the Auditore family. Altaїr preferred his apartment. This place reminded him of his mother's place in the Hamptons and of their house in Oxford. He had gotten lost all the time in those houses when he had been navigating endless corridors in search of his mother only to find he was alone, only another glorious burden for the former starlet and diva to put up with.

He sneaked his way past some people in costumes greeting him fleetingly. Most of them he would not even recognize if they would not hide behind a mask. It seemed that Ezio had invited almost the entirety of the High-Society of Los Angeles, or at least those who thought themselves to be exactly that. He found his way outside, passing large columns, antique vases, and heavyset oil paintings. The air was mild as he stepped outside and onto one of the many patios that were surrounding the house. From here he could overlook the garden of the house. Ezio had made sure that it was well lit at night so that its entire beauty could be admired even in the dark.

At first, he did not notice the figure standing in the dark near the stone balustrade as he stepped outside, but as soon as he took his second step towards the balustrade himself, he took in the image of the looming figure in front of him.

Malik Al-Sayf always had this gloomy aura around him, although Altaїr was convinced that this man was not just stony, antisocial, and moody all the time. No one was and especially one with a career such as theirs could not afford to be like this all the time. Since he had first met Malik, he had been convinced that there was a much softer side about him, and he had been proved right during their work together. Back then they had been getting along quite well - they had to, otherwise portraying a gay couple would have been at the very least awkward. However, they had had fun despite all the awkwardness that came with such a thing. For a fleeting moment back then he had even thought they were friends.

»Enjoying the party, I see.« Altaїr huffed. His head was already a bit mushy from the alcohol but as always Malik Al-Sayf portrayed the perfect role model of a Muslim man as he stuck to virgin drinks or water - unlike his brother. Kadar was a lot more outgoing and bubbly than his older brother, but anyone would be more bubbly and outgoing compared to Malik.

»You know that I don't really like parties like this.« Malik replied as he leaned forward onto the stone, leaning on his strong forearms in the process, his back towards the intruder. He was not wearing his mask any longer but had discarded it to the side on the balustrade and Altaїr too felt it was time to put the bloody thing away. He was not a big fan of masks or costumes anyway. The mask he wore day in and day out was already more than enough.

»Then why did you come? You could have come up with an excuse, you are an actor.« He snickered before he hopped on top of the balustrade to sit on it sideways, one leg to each side of the stone, facing Malik like a child ready to burst into a play fight with the older male and very well aware that he could only lose such a fight, as he placed his mask on the stone between his legs.

Only shortly Malik flashed him a glance before he stared ahead again as if to admire the gardens. It was obvious that Ezio missed home just by looking at his estate. »Because Ezio asked me to.«

»That's not a very good reason, Ezio asked half of L.A. to come, and yet not everyone he asked really came.« He huffed.

»It's your birthday.«

»You don't like me.«

»It's good for the publicity to act like I would.«

Altaїr's grin widened a bit as he hopped down again and walked up closer to Malik. Malik was always like a cat on alert and one was better careful when approaching a cat on alert. Altaїr, however, had long thrown all the care out of the window. »But what if you do like me?« He hummed stepping behind Malik. »I'm not so bad, you know?«

»No, you are worse.« Malik replied as he swiftly rose, straightening his posture again, and turned around to face him. Their faces were mere inches apart by now and Altaїr could feel his warm breath on his skin and a gentle tickling sensation running down his spine. He had enjoyed working with Malik back then quite a bit, probably even more than he should have and not even the more awkward scenes between them as lovers he had minded all too much.

»Oh come on, give me a chance at least, would you? I can be quite funny, I've heard people say.« Altaїr tried to coax him into submission as he wiggled his brows. It was the alcohol's fault, he was sure of that because otherwise, he would not have been as stupid as to try and fuck with Malik like this.

»I'm sure they were drunk.«

»Well, if you don't want to be my friend, we could still be something else, you know?« He lowered his voice just enough to make sure that Malik got the hint before he brushed his left hand tenderly over Malik's strong and firm chest that was sadly hidden underneath his shirt. There were all those nasty layers of cloth between them and yet Altaїr could feel the warmth of Malik's skin radiating through the rich fabric. Malik was like a drug, he had always been, and Altaїr had always been some kind of addict. He had always been addicted to the attention he got from others, his mother, his fans. He had always been an addict for the rush of adrenaline when he would do something forbidden. He had always been an addict for being liked by others no matter if he himself liked them or not. But his strongest addiction stood here right in front of him and seemed not able to tell in the slightest - Malik Al-Sayf, the man whose posters had decorated his teenage bedroom and who's every movie Altaїr possessed. Oh, he had heard the rumors, he had seen the gossip on the internet, and he was done with hiding and waiting.

Malik pushed him back with a strength Altaїr had not expected and before he could even brace himself for the next thing, he saw Malik's fist coming for his face.

※※※※※※※

Usually, Malik had himself under control no matter what. It was his job to be in control of his body and feelings and his expression for the most part. He had always possessed a natural talent for self-control. He did not even mean to punch Altaїr straight in the face and yet he did - and it felt oh so very right and good. Usually, he did not retreat to violence for he despised violence with ferocity, but it felt good.

Altaїr had been oh so very close - so close in fact that Malik had been able to feel his hot unpleasantly moist breath on his face. They shared the same height, they shared the same passion for acting, the same heritage (more or less) and yet he hated this man with a fever that never seemed to stop or ease off, a fever he had never felt before for anyone in his life. He did not quite know what had ticked him off about Altaїr this time. He had been too close for comfort, his hand roaming his chest too intruding in his privacy, mockingly perhaps. Had he heard the rumors about Malik being gay? To him it seemed as if Altaїr would do anything to taunt him, stealing his roles was just a part of it, but coming to this party in the costume that should have been Malik’s was too much.

He did not give Altaїr enough time to brace himself or shield his body as he lunged forward again and within an instant they were fighting like rabid dogs, pushing and shoving at each other. Despite the fact that Altaїr seemed drunk, he was quick on his feet and more than able to dodge Malik's punches skillfully only to punch back with a swiftness and a strength that Malik had never thought possible.

※※※※※※※

Maybe he had overdone it with this party tonight. He would be ready to admit that, if anyone would dare to confront him about this, but most of the people around him did not really care, as it was always the case. All of them were just leeches that wanted to gain a profit from Ezio's extravaganza and influence and many of them thought him to be too naive to know, just because he was young and rich. However, there was a difference in growing up rich and wealthy and becoming rich and wealthy during the cause of one's life.  Someone like Ezio, who had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, would learn quite fast to differentiate between real friends and leeches. His real friends he could count on one hand - which was sad, considering how many people he had invited and had come to this party.

»It's going well, isn't it?« Leonardo hummed beside him as he handed him another glass of exquisite red wine. Of course, Ezio had imported this very wine from their own vineyard near Monteriggioni in Tuscany and filled his wine cellar with it to the brim, accompanied by a few French wines. Only the best wine for his friends, of course. This was how his father had always taught him to treat any guest.

»It is, yes.« Ezio grinned as he gently clinked glasses with Leonardo. For the world, they were friends and nothing more and Ezio hated that charade they were portraying with a passion. A part of him, the young, brash, and unreasonable part of him, wanted to tell the world how he really felt, but Leonardo, his voice of reason, always pulled him back to earth before he could make a mistake like this. He did not fear the response from the media or his fans, he did not even fear the response of his family, even though he did most things in his life just for them. He did not want to disappoint them, maybe that was the reason. He hated to disappoint. Maybe that was why he had overdone it with this party once again. He had wanted Altaïr's birthday party to be _the_ event of the year, even though the year was just almost eleven days old.

»Still, I think it's a little much, don't you think?« Leonardo asked as they stood on the sidelines and watched over the dance floor of the ballroom. Ezio hated pop music and he hated what people called dancing nowadays. Maybe he was a little old fashioned, but he had always like ballroom dancing and seeing his guests dance in this style was to his liking and gave a little more elegance and flair to this whole event. However, the dancing couples could not hold his attention for too long, before he looked at his lover again. Leonardo had chosen the costume that was entirely of his own making and almost not describable – a mess of old beige rags and ripped lace. The golden mask with the bunny shaped ears, however, he had gotten from Ezio, while he himself was wearing a Venetian cat mask. Of course, he had bought them in Venice during his last visit in the summer of last year. No cheap replicas would ever find their way into _his_ house, or, even worse, on his lover's face.

»Well, it's my last party in freedom, Leo, and its Altaïr's birthday. I wanted something special, something to remember.«

»You behave like I am going to die just because you marry that woman, Ezio.« Leonardo chuckled and the twitch of his left hand around the wine glass told Ezio of the desire Leonardo felt to brush his fingers over his lover's cheek. »Cristina Vespucci seems to be a nice girl. You should be glad that your brother has not already buried his greedy claws into her, as he does with everything else most of the time. You know how Federico is, he likes to take things that belong to you.«

»With exception of you, I hope.« Ezio grinned playfully, but Leonardo rolled his beautiful blue eyes and had not even the decency to blush. Leonardo, however, was probably one of the very few selected people that Ezio could trust in all honesty. He would never even dare to mistrust this man whom he called a friend for such a long time by now. »I don't care for Cristina Vespucci, Leonardo.«

»But she cares for you.«

»Ah, si, and that is entirely the problem.« Ezio snorted. »How am I supposed to keep this charade intact with someone like her? I only care for you and it's bothering me that I have to spend my life with her from now on. She might be pretty and comes from the right family, but she is a … what do you call it? _Ochetta_.«

Leonardo opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it was, it drowned in Desmond's voice as the younger man hurried towards them from the other side of the room apparently. Last time Ezio had seen him, the young model had been making a show out of handling a few bottles he had stolen from the waiters. »Ezio! It's almost midnight! Where is Altaїr?« The young barkeeper pointed to his wristwatch as though Ezio might not understand his dilemma otherwise. Well, he had drunk a lot tonight, but he was not nearly as drunk as he had hoped he would be around this time starting this party. The cake was ready and the waiters he had hired would soon bring the cake out for the big birthday celebration. Everything was planned and ready for the big moment. Only Altaїr was nowhere to be seen, as Ezio noticed now as he looked around the ballroom.

»You know Altaїr.« Connor's deep rumbling voice was always like approaching thunder and almost made Ezio jump in surprise as he had not noticed how Kadar and Connor had approached the scene silently. Kadar looked positively drunk the way he dangled from Connor's broad shoulders with one arm helplessly wrapped around the taller man's neck, but Connor, as always was the prime example of someone who had himself under perfect control. It seemed there was nothing in the world that could tempt Connor to give up his reprised real-life role as _the good kid_. »He is probably hiding somewhere. You know how much he hates his birthday anyway.«

»So? Just because he does not want to celebrate his birthday that does not mean that we have to accept it just like that, right?« Ezio snorted and Kadar immediately raised his half-empty glass at him with a cheer on his full lips. Kadar probably did not even care about the occasion, as long as there were alcohol and pretty women the young man would be there to celebrate.

»Right-o!« Kadar cheered once again, but Desmond's frown never vanished.

»Well, it’s a little embarrassing when the cake arrives and the birthday boy is nowhere to be found, though.« He stated calmly and right in that very moment as if Desmond's unholy mopishness had conjured up that exact dilemma, Ezio saw the cake approaching. He had not shied expenses of course. It was a three-level cake that came in white cream and funny little details plastered all over it, Stars, and Flowers, and glitter, and Ezio had made sure that there were a few Romeo and Juliet related details made of fondant on the cake just for Altaїr to enjoy.

And just as the entire room started to sing _Happy Birthday_ as it was planned, not noticing that the birthday boy was not yet here anyway, Ezio heard the noise and the ruckus outside for the first time now that the music had grown a little more silent. After that, everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

He saw Altaїr and Malik approaching from the foyer, shoving and grappling at each other. He saw how Altaїr almost brutally kicked Malik in the stomach in the hall and how Malik landed a hard swinger in return straight at Altaїr's right jaw. Blood was gushing from Altaїr's lips and mouth and for a second Ezio was certain that this whole thing was just a stunt, just some badly choreographed little thing for them to scare everyone with and ruin the moment and Ezio's well-planned scheme. A whole lot of fake blood and scratches. Surely, Altaїr knew someone who was good with makeup like this and smuggled them inside!

However, after the next punch straight to his head, Altaїr started stumbling and swaying badly and as Malik shoved at him once again, disaster struck once and for all as Altaїr stumbled against one of the waiters who was carrying the cake. He grabbed for Malik one last time in another futile attempt of punching him, but as he fell, he dragged the older male with him and with a loud splash and with cake flying everywhere, both of them buried the cake under their weight.


	4. Chapter 4

Ezio’s party was all over the news. Sadly, for all the wrong reasons and not because the party had been the event of the year, as Ezio had probably hoped it would be, but, of course, because of the incident that had happened during that party and subsequently ended it too. No matter where Malik would turn to, photos of him and Altaїr were all over the internet, newspapers, and gossip magazines. It would be ridiculous if it were not for the massive amounts of calls that Malik had already received within the first twenty-four hours after the fact. Not only had his agent called him to ask him what the hell he had been thinking or several news outlets which wanted a statement, also his own mother had called him to yell at him through the phone - As mothers did.

Maybe her words had been a little harsh, but she was not wrong in her sermon and Malik was aware that he had behaved the wrong way and caused a hell lot of trouble, even though this was not at all like him, as his mother had kept reminding him through the phone.

Malik had never been the one to pick a fight or even get into a brawl with another guy. He had always taken a step back when situations grew too tense and rather examined the situation to maybe even solve a problem with the other person. He had never turned to violence in the past. But Altaїr … Oh, it was so very easy for Altaїr Ibn-La’Ahad to make him snap and so hard for Malik to breathe when Altaїr was around - which was quite often due to the nature of their work.

He had chosen the solitude of the forests away from the rush of the big city that was L.A. Oh, he could not stand this city and the people living there. Sometimes he wished himself back to his home in Virginia, back to where he came from, back to his stupid country boy roots, and back to his parents’ house outside of town where everything had been nice and simple, albeit a little boring at times. But every time he would get into his car to drive home for a visit with his brother, he was horrified to meet his parents. Horrified to hear their voices, see their faces and their constant nagging. Not one visit would go by without his mother thrusting a pile of papers at him or photos of strangers, women that they deemed appropriate for him to marry.

Malik tried his best not to think about his future when he would venture out into the woods. He wanted only to think about his heavy backpack that kept him down to earth so he would not fly off into the skies with his head full of worries and his only company the sounds around him, the leaves and twigs breaking under his thick shoes, the rustling of animals in the underwood and the trees all around - and Connor.

No matter how much Malik liked to be alone from time to time, he would never go on a hiking trip by himself and since Kadar was not the type for going out into the nature where there was no wifi and thus no access to neither porn nor gossip, he always was happy to take Connor and his husky with him. For Malik, it was easy to be around Connor and it had always been like this. He had grown attached to Connor quite quickly back when they had first met and when Connor had only been a young teenage boy. Connor was a quiet person and silence with him was never uncomfortable. Around him, Malik could take a deep breath and calm his senses.

»I don't understand« Connor, for once, broke the silence of the woods only when they sat down to rest for a moment as they had found a clearing and sat down on a few logs that stood where trees had been cut off by the rangers. »why your parents only ever confront _you_ about getting married. What about Kadar?«

It was the last thing Connor wanted to talk about and Malik was aware of that truly. But then again, he rather talked about this situation as about Altaїr and the incident at the party the other day. After he chewed the bite of his sandwich and swallowed it to buy a little time, he sighed and looked at Connor who was already taller than him, even though he was most certainly not yet done growing. For all his circumstances, it was almost odd how normal Connor had turned out. Malik had always thought to be an all-American boy and quite normal for the most part, but Connor, despite his upbringing, could top him in that regard. He was almost painfully normal.

»Because he is the younger one. My parents are obsessed with keeping the name alive and as the first born son, that is my duty and Kadar’s privilege. They expect me to follow the rules, to get married and have a son whom I can burden the same way. My wishes do not matter, while Kadar has every time in the world.« He responded as neutral as he could possibly muster even though it was far from being easy for him. This was his life’s dilemma, they were talking about, after all.

Connor hummed into his sandwich as a sign that he had understood. Of course, he had, their situations were quite alike, even though Haytham would not force Connor to marry yet. He was only twenty years old, after all, and had a little time left to enjoy his youth. But soon enough Haytham Kenway would dig his claws into Connor again to drag him back into the family business, whether Connor would like it or not. »And did you choose one yet? A wife, I mean.«

»No, not yet.« Malik replied with a sigh. This whole conversation seemed absurd, and probably because it was. »But I know that I have to.«

»Because of the rumors going around.« It was not a question, but a very blunt statement. However, Malik had a hard time being angry with Connor, for he was speaking the truth. And yet he was reluctant to answer.

»My mom calls me almost every day since all of this started. She cries and yells and screams and demands that I answer her truthfully.« He tried to say it with a sly smirk on his lips, but he utterly failed.

»And do you answer her truthfully?«

»Of course not.« He huffed. »She would only cry and scream more if I would, so I lie to her and listen to her praising my cousin Sana for her beauty and good character. I nod and say _‘yes mom’, ‘of course mom’_ instead.«

Silence washed over them for a short moment again as Malik decided to let out his anger on his innocent sandwich instead before Connor raised his voice again just loud enough for Malik to hear him speak. »I can understand that.« He said. Most people would call Malik a coward for not telling the truth to his parents because what was the worst that could happen to him? They would disown him, yes, but he had never been close to them and rather he would live a life that made him happy than having his parents around who only ever demanded things from him and never shown true affection towards him, unlike his brother who had been showered with all of this from the start. That was the real difference between being the heir to the throne and being a prince. But if he would risk it and if they would disown him, his burden would fall on Kadar and that was something he did not want. It was _his_ duty and _he_ had grown up knowing that someday he would need to obey his parents and sacrifice what he really wanted. However, he believed Connor as he said that he could understand that. If anyone could then it was him.

»But now, with this new little scandal, I probably have to tell my parents that they shall write to Sana’s father and tell him that I agreed.« Sana was a real beauty, at least that was one positive thing he could take from this whole ordeal. She was nice to look at, and as most women in their culture, she would probably keep her mouth shut most of the time and just live with her husband being not around very much. It was not that he hated her - He did not even know her. He had never seen her, never spoken to her and the time they would meet for the first time, would be the day before they would marry. It was what it was. Simple as that. It was good enough for his parents, so why should it not be good enough for him as well? At least with him, he thought, Sana would get treated well and not been forced to do things she did not want to do.

Connor did not say anything about his decision, but later when they started walking again, he gently nudged his shoulder and threw a little smirk at him. »A good punch you threw at Altaїr there.«

»I thought you two are friends.« Malik replied as he raised his brows at Connor. Then again, Altaїr was friends with everyone - except Malik, and that, for once, was entirely Malik's decision.

»We are.« Connor smiled. »But sometimes Altaїr just deserves to be punched, whatever he did this time, I am sure you did what you had to do.«

»No, he hasn't.« Malik murmured more to himself than to Connor. »He mocked me, yes, but he did not deserve to be punched because of this. I should have been more calm.«

»Maybe.« Connor sighed as he stepped over a small creek and held a hand out to help Malik over it too. »But let me tell you: I framed one of the pictures of Altaїr soiled with cake and hung it in my kitchen. It's awesome.«

※※※※※※※

»Would you please just turn it off?«

»But you were such a cute baby!«

»I was a baby like any other baby. I was fat, I cried and I threw temper tantrums, just turn it off.«

»Oh, and your mother was so pretty in this episode! Such a shame she decided to leave the show.«

»She is _still_ pretty and she did not _decide_ to leave the show, she was kicked off because the wife of the producer got wind that she was fucking him and threatened him with divorce if he would not kick her out.«

Maria laughed as she gently slapped his left thigh, but Altaїr just groaned in pain - or at least he wanted her to believe that he was in pain, hoping that he would get a little more cake then. That much he had to give to Ezio, the cake was awesome, even though most of it had landed on his costume and the people around. Yet, his mouth still hurt quite badly, even four days after the fact.

»Now, your only asset is damaged, such a shame.« Maria smiled as she brushed her fingers of his right cheek instead of giving him more cake, but Altaїr snorted and crossed his arms defiantly as he leaned back further into the cushions of her ridiculous soft dark pink sofa.

»Scars only add to a man’s good looks.« Again he was rewarded with a small laugh from Maria’s beautiful mouth. He had to give it to her, her smile and laugh were beautiful and it was still an enigma to him why in the world a woman like her would even dare to find interest in a bloke like him. She could do better than that, but apparently, Maria had not yet understood this. She was bound to, eventually. »Anyway, Bellec is furious.« He then stated as he rose from his spot on the sofa. If he would not get fed with more of the birthday cake from Maria's fridge, there was no point in sitting through another episode of _Keeping up with the Johnsons_.

Maria remained where she was and threw another glance at the TV. Altaїr hated those constant reruns of old shows. Well, no, that was not true. He enjoyed something like Bonanza greatly, but _Keeping up with the Johnsons_ , well, that was a whole different story, especially the early episodes. It was not just that he was cringing all over the place whenever he would see his kid self on TV, but his mother had been in the first twenty episodes too, which was something most people did not really realize. She did not even play the role of little Josh’s mother, only the woman that was tempting the family father Harold to get involved with her. In the end, he had done just that. Harold Johnson, or Brian O’Connor in real life, had been stepfather number one for him after he had left his wife and three children.

He had only been three years old as this had happened, but he had already learned a very valuable lesson: His mother always got what she wanted.

It had been her wish for him to start acting and she had done anything that was in her power to achieve that goal. She had wanted Brian to marry her and gain a not to disdain amount of profit from this marriage and the later resulting divorce, and she had done anything that was in her power to get just that, leaving another woman and three young children devastated by the betrayal and resulting loss of money. His mother was a homewrecker and sadly, Altaїr had needed to learn this early on in his life, just as he had learned that he better not get attached to any of his stepfathers.

»Because of the ruined costume or because of the turmoil?« Maria laughed. Bellec being furious was one of the very few constants in his life ever since he had first worked with the french producer. He liked working with Pierre Bellec, but the guy had quite the temper when things wouldn't go the way he had intended them to.

»Both, I guess. I didn't listen to the messages that he left me. He started yelling and I unplugged my answering machine.« Unplugging seemed always the best solution to his problems. His mother did the very same thing. When her phone had not stopped ringing during his childhood because some angry lover or scorned wife had tried to harass her, she had just unplugged her telephone. They had moved a lot too during his childhood and looking back, there was no single place he really could call home. Nowhere he had been long enough to make friends or even try to.  

»Altaїr« Maria's voice was just a sigh as she finally turned off her TV and rose from her sofa to meet him again near the large windows of her penthouse apartment. The place was too large for one person alone, with too many quite unnecessary rooms. Wasted space and all that only for the sake of showing off wealth and fame. He did not like places like this one, but in the end, he felt more comfortable meeting Maria at her place in West Hollywood, than inviting her over to his apartment in the Art District. Here he had always an escape route, after all. He could always just decide that he wanted to leave without having to go through the sometimes very embarrassing process of coaxing her into leaving his apartment. »Really, this is not the way to deal with your problems and I know that you are aware of this yourself, so why do I have to tell you?«

»You don't.« He replied maybe a little more sharply than he intended to. »I just did not want to listen to his rambling over this bad publicity even though we all know that any publicity is good publicity. No matter what we always say when we get interviewed, we all know that the ratings have dropped immensely by the end of the first season and now Bellec is stressed out in trying to get them back up again and I am not willing to play the role of his punching bag. It's not my fault that the ratings have dropped.«

»Nobody says it's your fault.« Maria’s blue eyes were a bit pleading as she got up from her sofa too. He knew that she wanted to comfort him because she had no clue what was going on in his mind.

»The main actor is always at fault and Bellec was not exactly shy in promoting me as Romeo from the get go. I had not even signed the contract and he had already ordered photographers for the first shooting and tweeted about it. The network was not thrilled over the idea of a Romeo and Juliet TV show but as soon as he got me, they changed their mind and so he likes to give me the blame if something does not work out.« The blame always fell on the main star, but even though Maria probably thought that this burden could be shared between them, he knew that it was not true.

»He is just nervous that this might be the end of his career, Altaїr. We all know that feeling, right? He has not been able to come up with anything good for a couple of years and most of his latest productions have been utter failures. We should all try and do the best we can to make this work.« Oh, Maria was always the believer. She always tried to see the good in things - even in him. Couldn't she see just how ridiculous this really was?

»I am.«

»No, you are not, and we both know this.« Maria finally sighed and crossed her thin arms gracefully in front of herself as she stopped mere two feet away from him close to one of the large windows that allowed an undisturbed view over Hollywood. He could even see the hills from here. »We worked together before, don't forget that and you do not act now as you did back then, Altaїr. There is more you can do and I know this! But most importantly you need to stop your constant fighting with Malik. It's not healthy and it stresses everyone on set out.«

»We are rivals.«

»No, you are not! _Count Paris_ and _Romeo_ are rivals. Or is there something you guys fight over that I am not aware of?« The playful tone of her voice did not escape him and as Altaїr looked at her, her deep blue eyes glistened with mischief - but there was also hope, and Altaїr, sadly, knew exactly what she was hoping for.

»Maybe.« He replied with a small smirk before he leaned down a bit to plant a kiss on her left cheek. He enjoyed seeing her blush. »But I have to go now. I’ll see you tomorrow.«

There was no one waiting for him at home and no lie he could tell his friends that they would not look through immediately, but Maria, well, she was still so very naive it hurt sometimes. In her eyes this kiss and her constant invitations to meet up with him, were the start of a blossoming relationship, of a great love story, perhaps and although he did not wish to play her, he had much of his mother.

At home only his hamster would wait for him, nibbling on the treats Altaїr had left him this morning or sucking on his water dispenser and making a ruckus with the cage he kept the little guy in. Nothing except his duty to feed his pet would drag him home nowadays. His flat was lonely, boring, empty and entirely too big for his liking, but it was too early in the day to meet Desmond in his bar anyway. He enjoyed evenings at the _Bad Weather_ with his best friend, chatting about nothing at all even though another exhausting day was awaiting them tomorrow. He did not know from where Desmond took the energy to work at the bar while filming. He was one of the busiest guys Altaїr knew. Always jumping from job to job, be it modeling for some magazine, shooting for the TV series, appearances on TV or the _Bad Weather_. He never seemed tired of all of this. Maybe because he was a hard worker, he had grown up on a farm, after all.

As he walked down the streets of Los Angeles, his woolen hat and his sunglasses all the protection he had from being recognized on the streets, he decided against going home and instead turned to walk into an entirely different direction.

※※※※※※※

»You should at least try and ask Altaїr to forgive you, Mal.« A part of him wished to be back at the forest with Connor instead of his flat with his fat black tomcat Napoleon (Kadar liked to call him _Sir Bitchalot_ ) lounging on his lap and his brother loafing around beside him in the very same fashion as the cat, mindlessly staring at the television.

»There is nothing I need to apologize or ask his forgiveness for.« As his cat was making itself a little more comfortable on his lap, Malik glared at his brother before looking back at the TV again. Kadar always liked to make himself at home in other people's flats and, of course, his big brother’s flat was no exception to this rule. It was not at all surprising that there was a rerun of _Keeping up with the Johnsons_ on and Kadar could hardly take his eyes off of the screen. Of course, his brother would not even need a rerun on TV, after all, he had all the seasons on DVD - even the limited Box Edition that had been published last summer to the anniversary of the show. He still had not really gotten behind the reason why Kadar had bought the box when he would just look the episodes in which Altaїr was as a child anyway. His brother, however, had never been good with money and always just threw it out with full hands.

»Yeah sure, just keep telling yourself that and I wait until you got behind it.« Kadar snorted and his cat shortly buried his claws in Malik’s left leg as if he wanted to support Malik's little brother in his claims, no matter how much Napoleon hated Kadar. Needless to say, of course, that Malik was aware that he should not have punched Altaїr and that he was aware of the mistake he had made just because he had felt attacked by the man. It did not mean though that he had to recognize his guilt. He was a man very capable of ignoring his guilt if needed. And now it seemed to be the time when exactly that attribute was indeed needed.

»Maybe I should not have punched him on his birthday.« Malik finally agreed with a heavy heart, though. »I could have waited until the day after, I guess.«

Kadar just sighed and threw the remote at him which Malik gladly caught to finally switch off the TV so that he would not need to see kid Altaїr a second longer. »Why did you punch him anyway?«

»What is the media saying?«

»No, Malik, seriously. What has he done to deserve being punched?«

»What hasn't he done to deserve being punched?«

»You cannot seriously tell me it's still because he stole this role from you. You don't even like filming TV Shows. You didn't want to play Romeo in the first place! You only wanted it as soon as you heard Altaїr was being considered!«

»Yeah, so?«

»You don't make any sense, do you?« Kadar sighed. »And mom always said _I_ was the weird one.« A small snort escaped Malik's lips as he leaned his head against the backrest of his dark gray sofa and decided that staring at the white ceiling was much more entertaining than watching TV - at least as long as Kadar was here with him. It was almost a miracle to Malik that, after a few minutes, Kadar had not yet gone into withdrawal and began to shake. His brother usually did not go without TV or any kind of media to consume for more than a minute or two. Working with him was rather stressful. Malik almost wanted to praise him that he would not try and pry the remote control from him again, as he noticed that Kadar had his phone in his hands already. Of course, he had.

»That's not very polite, you know? I'm pouring out my heart and you play with your phone.« Malik huffed but he did not make the mistake of trying to pry the phone away from Kadar. He did not want any more scratches than he already had thanks to his cat.

»According to popular belief, you don't have one.« Kadar snorted with his eyes glued to the screen. »At least that's what Tumblr says.«

»Yes, so? Tumblr also says that I have a stormy affair with Altaїr since we first met on set and that we have secretly married and have at least three love children by various surrogate mothers. Brother dear, do not believe everything that is said on the internet, especially not on Tumblr, I told you so before. You should stay away from this site anyway, it's not good for your mental health with all those dangerous _buzzwords_ and _triggers_ and _pronouns_.«

»How could I ever stay away from Tumblr? It's delicious! Have you seen how many followers I have? Have you seen the fanart?« Only then his brother looked at him shortly, but only to show his phone to Malik. Of course, he had looked at racy fanart of himself. Of course, he had... »Well, you never denied having an affair with Altaїr too anyway.« Kadar then snickered as he went back to browsing through Tumblr. »But most of the people who are saying this are just pissed because you punched their precious Altaїr on his birthday like the monster you truly are. My, my, I wonder what they would say or think if I was to tell them a few stories about my big mean brother from our childhood.«

»Are you trying to blackmail me?«

»Do you have anything to hide?« Playing a sneaky hacker in one of his TV shows had had a negative influence on his little brother’s character for sure. »I just want you to apologize to Altaїr tomorrow. Just walk over to him and say sorry. That's all.«

»I am not going to say sorry, he deserved it.« Malik finally sighed as he got up, which subsequently led to his cat needing to jump off his lap and get very angry at him. Well, the name Napoleon did not come from nothing. His cat was a real little dictator mostly. »Enough of this already, Kadar. You should better rehearse your parts for tomorrow, I don't want Bellec to throw a tantrum because of you again.«

»What did he do?« Kadar finally exclaimed as he apparently was fed up with Malik's behavior as he threw his hands in the air. Even someone like Kadar would have enough at one point.

»Kadar, just drop it!«

»Malik!« His tone grew a bit more serious now. »I did not want to do this, but you do not leave me another choice: I'm going to call mom.«

In horror, Malik watched how Kadar’s thumb ventured over the screen of his phone ready to open the contact list and call their mother. Sometimes Malik hated technology. Back in the good old days of phones with a dial plate, Kadar would not have been such a great threat to him. He would have had plenty of time to knock his little brother out, tie him up and lock him in the closet. Nowadays, however, all Kadar needed was one swipe of his finger to be dangerous. »Okay, just stop it, alright?« Malik finally intervened before he brushed his left hand through his short black hair. »Jesus, Kadar, no need to be dramatic.«

And yet Kadar would not take off his thumb from the screen in that threatening manner of his. For a moment, Malik contemplated tackling his brother to the ground and prying the phone out of his hands, but the phone in Kadar’s hand was very much like a bomb and could go off at any moment. Their mother was always quick to answer her phone, especially when her favorite would call her. Kadar cocked his left eyebrow, threateningly.

»He just said some stupid things, okay? You know Altaїr just as well as I. He was provoking me with those stupid allegations that have come up lately. I wouldn't even be that surprised if he was responsible for the things that are written about me lately.«

»You mean the gay stuff.« Still, his thumb hovered over the screen.

»Yes.« Malik breathed and gestured towards the phone in his brother's hand. »Would you stop it now?«

After a moment of hesitation, Kadar finally did lower the phone like a loaded pistol. »That's not like you at all.« He then stated. »To attack someone so viciously just because he provoked you or said stupid things, Malik.« The deep lines on his brother's forehead told stories about worries for his older brother, but Malik did not really catch the bait. »Usually you would not do something like this.«

»Hey, I just punched him. It would have been over then, but Altaїr punched back. I did not intend to start a brawl with him, okay? He was intoxicated and I was angry. Okay, I admit. It wasn't just his behavior that night. I was frustrated, okay? The last three roles that I did audition for, he stole from me without being really interested in them anyway. I just snapped as he punched back.«

»But you still are not sorry.«

»No!« Malik sighed. »No, I am not. He had it coming for years now, Kadar! I am not going to apologize and I do not think that he expects me to anyway.« Kadar shot him one last look of utter skepticism in his words, but then he slowly just shoved his phone into the pocket of his jeans. They both knew that Kadar was right and suddenly Malik felt guilty.

※※※※※※※

Altaїr liked the _Bad Weather_. He liked that it was such a quiet place although it was right in the heart of L.A. When he would leave this bar, he would stumble right into a crowd of people who would roam around the Hollywood Boulevard on their nightly adventures. But down here in this bar things were easier than they were in the noisy nightclubs that were sprouting out of the ground every few feet. Up there on the streets of Los Angeles, he would not be able to run around just like this without getting recognized and the same was true for Desmond too. Especially when they would be together they would be in danger of getting noticed. He did not mind usually. It was part of the job, after all. It was his job to be so famous that people would stop him in the streets. That was what his mother had always wanted for him.

The thing was that he was not enjoying this very much anymore. Not that he ever had, if he was honest. As a child, those screaming fans had been terrifying to him, but his mother had not wasted a second to drag him closer to those people. He had been served on a silver plate and now it seemed he had no right to privacy any longer. He had never quite thought about this until now, but as he sat on this barstool and put down his empty scotch glass again, those thoughts came to him like the dark clouds of an approaching storm. The rain and thunder were inevitable now.

»Sure you want another one?« Sometimes Desmond was like a beam of hope in the dark, sometimes he was like a rain cloud that took away the sunlight. As he now pulled Altaїr from his thoughts and had the audacity to ask this ridiculous question instead of just filling up his glass again, he was more like the latter.

Instead of answering him with words, Altaїr grabbed his empty glass and waved it at Desmond. The young man only rolled his eyes at this, before he took the glass to refill it. Despite his young age, Desmond was a wise man and he knew when it would be pointless to argue with someone as stubborn as Altaїr. »You are aware that you have to be on set at four AM, right?«

A low grunt was the only response Desmond got from him and Altaїr was not even slightly ashamed of his lack of conversation tonight. There was just too much going on in his head. Lately, it became harder and harder to get his head clear. Alcohol helped. What did not help so much was when people would confront him about the news that had made headlines since Ezio's party. Having been forced to watch reruns of _Keeping up with the Johnsons_ at Maria’s place today, had not helped either. If it were for him, he just wanted to forget this time and this show once and for all.

»Oh my god, isn't that Josh Johnson?«

But apparently, _Josh Johnson_ stuck to him like gum to the soles of his cheap sneakers. However, for once, he was granted a nice surprise as it was not the voice of a woman addressing him like this, but of a man. A very good looking man, as he noticed when he turned around. He did not look like the stereotypical nerd who would try talking to him on the streets about his movies or series. The guy who was now slowly approaching the bar and thus him and Desmond, was tall in build, maybe even taller than Altaїr if he would decide to stand up to face him instead of just throwing a glance over his shoulder. He was broad shouldered, his skin fair, but not so fair that it could be considered pale. With his angular shaped face, the dark stubbles around his firm jaw and the dark, almost wolfish looking eyes and the tuft of short, but nonetheless messy dark hair, he almost reminded Altaїr of Malik. Almost. This guy was not frowning or looking at him with murder in his brown eyes. Despite the small scar that was going through his left eyebrow, he looked quite handsome.

»I'm afraid _Josh Johnson_ died in an accident many years ago.« Altaїr replied with a small snort, but for once he did not feel like turning around to Desmond again and to ignore the man who was approaching him like this. Quite the contrary actually, which was odd, even for him. »You can call me Altaїr instead - or at least you could if you would buy me another drink.«

Altaїr was very much aware of the look Desmond shot at him even though he was not looking at his best friend. He would not say that he would not hold secrets from Desmond. He did. But Desmond was the one person with whom he could at least try to be honest most of the time. It was not always easy, though. However, Desmond did not judge. He never judged him and he did not do it now, as the stranger came closer and sat down on the barstool right next to Altaїr on his left-hand side to order another scotch for Altaїr with a small grin directed at the actor which Altaїr was all too happy to return.

»Thank you.« Altaїr said directed at the stranger, as Desmond filled his glass once more and placed it before him, but the stranger stopped Altair's left hand as he wanted to grab the glass.

»Is this all I get?« He asked, the grin still very much intact on his face and his eyes dark like pits with desire. Altaїr could have been creeped out by his look, apparently, Desmond was, but instead he wound his hand from the man’s firm grip, grabbed his glass and took one swift sip of the burning liquid.

»I'm sure I can think of a few ways to show my gratitude.« He had to admit it: he liked the thrill of the hunt but knowing that he was the prey sometimes had it's thrill too.


	5. Chapter 5

Waking up next to a perfect stranger in a foreign flat or hotel room was not new to Altaїr and due to his job and the sometimes ungodly hours that he needed to get up, he was mostly the one who would wake up first and thus escape the situation of a one night stand without the need of facing the embarrassment of talking to the other person. As his phone shook him awake around three in the morning, he was quick to silence the bloody thing before it could wake up the naked man who was lying next to him, snuggled up to his naked backside as if Altaїr was nothing but an oversized teddy. A cuddler, apparently, despite his outer, very muscular, very handsome shell. Altaїr did not like cuddlers. He did not despise them either, but he himself simply was not a friend of cuddling after sex – especially not with strangers.

He did not like the heat of another body pressed tightly against his, as long as it was not for sex. He did not like the musky smell of sweat lingering in the air around him after the fire of the moment had gone out and when his brain was slowly getting back in control again. It was too tight in this bed, too hot, just too much overall. So, after he had silenced his phone he was quick to leave the bed, careful not to wake his latest trophy in the process as he grabbed for his jeans and his dark gray hoodie lying on the floor. He did not recall much of the last night. He remembered leaving the Bad Weather with the man under Desmond's disapproving looks. He remembered walking down the Hollywood Boulevard laughing and chatting with the man. Had they been seen together? Probably. Had people tried to talk to him in his intoxicated state? Probably. Well, if all this was the case, he could only hope that he had done nothing indecent around other people and that the internet would stay free from allegations and rumors about him at least for a little while now.

It was always dangerous to fuck fans - especially those who were of the same sex. He could never be sure that this man, who he now left behind after he had climbed into his pants and pulled over his hoodie, would not go straight to the yellow press or turn to twitter in anger or disappointment. What if he had made photos? Or worse: a video?

Altaїr paused at the bedroom door for a moment and threw one last look at the sleeping man. His phone was lying on the nightstand next to him, innocently. It would be easy for Altaїr to grab it and have a look so he would be able to delete every bit of proof this guy might have gathered last night, but then he decided against it, grabbed his worn-out sneakers near the apartment door and left. There was this tiny voice in his head asking him for the reason why he had not checked, wondering, if he might want the world to know his dirty little secret.

※※※※※※※

The air on set was stuffy and dusty, which was weird somehow, but Malik was too long a part of the showbiz to know that smell by heart. In the beginning, he had hated this smell with his entire being, but by now he had gotten used to it. Soft music was playing in the background of the hair and make-up room and the dust particles of various powders, rouges and bronzers were floating in the air. When they would not film inside of the Hollywood studios they would only have a small caravan for their make-up artists to do their magic, but here they had a rather big room to work in. Four sets of vanities stood side by side, all decked out with various palettes of makeup, brushes, and hairspray. It was quite the peaceful place to be at, whenever there was no one else around. However, Malik could not help but to remember his father's words, every time he sat down in one of the chairs to get his face done. As he had announced that he wanted to start acting, his father had immediately made fun of his son having to wear makeup like a girl. They had never really talked about it ever since and as Kadar had followed in his footsteps; the topic had not come up again. Malik was not even sure that his father had seen any movie he had been in. He knew for a fact, however, that he watched the TV shows Kadar had been in, no matter how small his part might have been.

His parents had always been good in playing favorites.

»Where is this dickhead again?« Bellec’s voice disrupted the wonderful serene silence of the studios and it did not need a mind reader to know who Bellec meant with this endearing term. Only he and Altaїr were scheduled this early today, as far as Malik knew, even though it was not impossible that other members of the cast were here already. Maria tended to be early. However, the others would usually slowly dribble in one by one in the cause of the next two to three hours. Malik, however, did not even attempt to look at the enraged producer as the young lady who was doing his makeup was dusting his face in sheer powder to get rid of the glow. He could see Bellec standing in the doorway out of the corner of his left eye and yet Malik's eyes remained on the mirror, looking at his own reflection as if he would be seeing himself for the first time. He had always loved this moment of transformation - This moment, when he would hang Malik Al-Sayf on a coat rag and pick up the guise of someone entirely else – if only figuratively speaking.

The costume of Count Paris was quite chic and definitely something very different from most of his costumes until now. Yes, he had performed in historical dramas before, but mostly as a background character and in his other roles he had often played a soldier or a policeman. Once he had even played a firefighter in some thriller. Count Paris, however, did his best to embody the feel and character of the Italian renaissance with rich reds, flawless whites, and bright golds. He was not particularly fond of the dark tricot pants or the wide and puffy sleeves of his blouse, but he liked the dark red doublet that was made of soft velvet with neat little details stitched with a golden thread and adorned with golden buttons all the way down. He even liked the short cape he was wearing over his left shoulder. For once he had not been told that he was too dark to play an Italian character _or_ that red would not suit him.

»I don't know.« Malik finally sighed as he noticed that Bellec was still hovering by the door of his little refuge and refused to go back to his work. Surely there was more than enough he had to do instead of getting on Malik's nerves. However, Malik could understand why the poor man was so agitated and angry. Altaїr should have arrived already and usually, he was not the type to be running late. No matter how much he disliked Altaїr, no matter how many flaws he could spell out about him, he could not say that he would act unprofessionally when he was working. »Call his agent.« Even though that poor man would not be able to do anything about Altaїr's refusal to be on time too. Still, it was odd. Altaїr's mother, the great actress, had had a reputation for running late and being a diva with all kinds of ticks and quirks, but Altaїr was the sole opposite of the things that were told about his mother. Perhaps that was his way of distancing himself from her.

»And what is he going to do? We are running out of time, Malik! You know how tight the schedule is! We already lost a few days thanks to your decision to damage his face! Now we need a whole new scene in which Romeo gets hurt so that his injuries won't delay us any longer! If he’s not here in the next five minutes, I swear, Malik I will-«

Sadly, Malik would never learn what Bellec would like to do to Altaїr if the man would not arrive within the next five minutes because they were interrupted by _singing_.

» _So I ran to the devil, he was waitin’_ « The change of the expression on Bellec’s face was almost comical as the studio door fell shut loudly and as Altaїr's booming voice disrupted the early morning hours like it was nobody's business. Well, he had to give him that he had a pretty nice voice for sure. » _So I ran to the devil, he was waitin’! All along that day…_ « What he did not like so much was that Altaїr sang his song almost better than he did - and, which was probably more important than Altaїr's talent, that he was way too cheerful for being late like this. It was just like Bellec had said. The first days after the party, Altaїr had not been in the condition to film and Malik had almost felt sorry for the state he had left his face in. By now, however, the purple bruises weren’t as bad anymore and the cut that went right through his lips had started to heal, albeit it slowly. It would have been hell for their make-up artists otherwise.

So, in the end, the reason why Malik had needed to leave his bed early today to come to work before everyone else, was his very own fault. The scene they were about to film was their own little punishment written into the episode on short notice to explain the state of Romeo's face so that they could finish filming.

»It was about time that you show your face.« Bellec huffed, seemingly unfazed by Altaїr's mockery of him and the song that Malik had to sing in the show as Count Paris. Usually it was Romeo who would get called the devil by Paris and numerous others for stealing away and tempting Juliet and before her Lady Rosalind, portrayed by the incredibly talented Evie Frye, but Altaїr seemed to find it funny to address Bellec that way as he grinned sheepishly at them now, walking right into the dressing room.

Of course, ever since Malik had first sung _Sinnerman_ by Nina Simone on the show during the first season, he was often asked during interviews to do so to and although he still loved the scene from the first season with count Paris sitting on the roof of his palazzo, looking over the nightly Verona, watching the young Romeo walking through the dark alleys and singing to himself. It had been an incredible scene, in the end, dramatically and beautifully shot and cut together to get a more realistic feel for the anger and resentment Count Paris felt for Romeo Montague. Needless to say that Malik knew entirely too well what Count Paris must have felt. Altaїr was stealing not a woman he loved from Malik, but the career he had worked so hard for against all obstacles his parents or his heritage had thrown his way. And everything he did, Altaїr did with a devilish little smile.

Altaїr did not waste any time as he floundered towards his chair next to Malik and slumped down as another make-up artist came rushing towards him with his cape. That poor girl had to work a lot quicker now thanks to him being late. Sometimes it was as if Altaїr wanted the show to fail even more as it already did. The first season of the show had been a massive success at first as it had introduced the various characters and their motivations, having the fans desperate for the second season only to have the first half of the second season dropping in rates significantly. Malik was aware that the writers had already changed the scripts a lot to accommodate to that drop in rates. The show was not structured to end with the second season, though, but Malik already questioned if that was the right decision. It was always better to let it look as if a show was ended as planned instead of needing to cancel it. The young lovers would survive another season and their lovers' quarrel would be dragged out one season more with everyone on board hating it and wanting out.

For them, something like this was always a risk. And for Malik, well, his career had suffered a great deal since Altaїr had made it his mission to sabotage him every step of the way. He was in his thirties now. For a male actor, thirty was not usually a line to signify the downfall, for male actors tended to thrive in their later years even more than they did in their youth. It was an unwritten rule that a male actor would not get his first Oscar before hitting forty anyway, but to Malik, it felt like his time was running out and that was one of the worst feelings he had ever experienced in his life. Maybe it was because he had started strong as a teenager and made himself quite a name and reputation. Producers and directors had loved to work with him as he was not like any other actor his age. But now with every step of his way the roles he was offered grew scarcer. After his debut, he had barely needed to audition for anything. _He_ had been called and offered a role, so many in fact that he had had to turn down many of those roles. Maybe, he wondered, he had lost the ground under his feet and now he experienced what falling meant for the first time. Maybe that was it. And maybe there was no one to blame except himself. But then there was Altaїr with his stupid grin again and he made it so hard not to hate him.

»Well, sorry, I had something to do.« Altaїr replied with not a care in the world for the people he had left hanging until now, which were not just Malik or Bellec, but the entire production team that was on their feet for hours already. » _Someone_ , actually.« Of course, Malik knew that Bellec would not say anything to this and later take out his frustration on others, maybe even on Arno, the novice director he had hired for the execution of this show. Bellec was not a calm man and he was not a man who was in much control of his anger. He had a reputation in this field of work, but Malik liked to work with him anyway. He did not really mind a harsh tone during work, as long as it was justified and Bellec at least knew what he wanted and how he wanted things to be. He spoke his mind and even if he would yell at someone, no one really took it as an insult or personal attack. He knew how to make people thrive for more. However, he was careful with Altaїr and Malik wondered if he was afraid that Altaїr could sabotage the show if he would grow angry with Bellec. Bellec could not afford the bad publicity or the failure of this show and Altaїr was, after all, his star. Even more so than Maria was. It was no wonder that Bellec would support every outing of Maria and Altaїr outside of the studio on which the press could leech and bite their teeth in.

Now Bellec only ground his teeth and spat something in French that Malik did not quite catch before he turned to leave them alone. »I have a feeling that good old Bellec is quite upset with me.« Altaїr hummed with closed eyes as the makeup artist was taking to his face and injuries. He had looked a lot worse just by the beginning of this week. »I wonder why that might be.« He pried one eye open to peak at Malik. »Any clue?«

For some reason that Malik was not able to fully grasp, Altaїr was the one person who really challenged his beliefs, not only about the world in its entirety, his morals and his belief of what was right and wrong but also his beliefs about himself. He had always been sure that he was a determined person, that he was a calm and considerate person and that he had himself and his sometimes raging emotions under control quite well. Altaїr, however, proofed with every step of the way that it was not so. As Altaїr's stupid grin faded while he turned his face towards the large mirror in front of him again, Malik felt the very same itch in his right fist that he had felt during Ezio’s party. So, instead of lingering about, he stood and hastily left the room. He did not like to consider this an escape, but in the end, it probably was. It was an escape from his own inner demons which seemed to be personified by this particular man.

Sometimes he wondered if Altaїr knew what an emotional impact he had on Malik. If he would not be aware and if he would not try to anger Malik out of spite, if it was just a flaw in the personality of Altaїr, maybe then it would be easier for Malik to accept it and move on. He could deal with dumb people. He could deal with flawed people and with people who did not anger other people on purpose. Or at least, that was something Malik wanted to believe about himself.

»It's not always easy to work with a man like him, right?« The voice of a young woman almost made Malik jump as he walked on set, but Evie Frye was quick to calm him with a small grin as she brushed the dark red hood of her favored cardigan off her dark brown hair. She looked tired and pale, her hair was in a tangled, messy bun on her head. Her entire appearance was the embodiment of what it meant to be an actor. Outsiders only ever saw the glamorous side, but Evie Frye had made it her mission to show them the reality of a disrupted sleep schedule, early morning and the consumption of a crap ton of expensive coffee. »He is much like my brother, isn't he?«

»Only that your brother is more amusing than he is.« Malik sighed as he walked up to the rag with the swords and brushed his fingers over the hilt of the one that was meant for him. He had always loved doing action scenes. A part of him had even wished to become a stuntman at one point. Becoming an actor had not always been his first priority in life and although he had always loved acting and had a passion for it, even going as far as to cross his father to be able to do what he wanted to do, maybe the path of a stuntman would have been the easier one and maybe he would be a lot happier with that.

Evie managed to get out a dry little laugh despite the ungodly hour as she stifled a yawn and took a sip from her paper coffee cup. At least there was a Starbucks nearby that was already open. Of course, even the people of Starbucks knew the dependency on coffee that actors usually shared. Then again the caterer always took care of them in that regard. »That depends on who you're asking, I suppose, as is true for Altaїr as well. Some people find him very entertaining – and very _charming_.«

»Some people also like to watch snails having a race.« Malik grunted with a short glare at the young woman. She looked ready to pass out right on the spot and as she grinned at his answer, her face was not even able to let the grin each her eyes. In the bright light of the studio her green eyes were tiny and her freckles all the more prominent. That was another thing the general public never got to see. They only saw beautiful people in the media, asking themselves how it would even be possible not to want to sleep with every single one of their cofactors if they would be in their shoes. They never really realized that behind all that glamor they were just regular people. Evie was good in reminding Malik about that. Every time she would appear on set she could not possibly look more plain and normal even if she would try. She was just a young girl in a dark red hooded cardigan, a pair of ripped jeans and sneakers from next door. It was a little different with Maria, as Malik had noticed. Evie could not care less how she looked arriving on set, Maria, however, always looked stunning.

Well, of course, the reason for the effort she put in her everyday appearance was quite clear.

»And some people like to eat snails. Speaking of which…« Evie was one snarky person sometimes, but that was exactly what Malik liked about her. He did not even need to look up to see that Arno Dorian, their director was approaching the scene. As always, Arno looked a little _salty_ (how Kadar liked to call it), as he approached them. Well, working with someone like Pierre Bellec tended to lead to a little saltiness, Malik would assume. He worked quite well with Bellec, but he was not the easiest producer to work with, that was also a truth they all could agree on.

To some, it was a mystery how a young man as Arno got to have his debut as a director on a show like this, but he had been Bellec's personal choice and for a good reason also. Arno was the son of Bellec's best friend Charles Dorian who himself had worked as a quite famous director in Hollywood for a number of years before he had gone back to France and started teaching at film school instead. In the beginning, a number of critics had bitched about the fact that Bellec would hire the son of a friend with no experience what so ever and that it was no wonder that the series had not turned out as good as it could have turned out with a different director. They had been sure that Bellec would treat Arno differently than he would any other director. But the truth was, that Bellec made Arno's life a living hell, mostly. And it was not Arno's fault either that the show was failing.

Despite the fact that this was Arno's debut, he was doing a great job, as far as Malik could tell, and he would indeed say that his judgment was valid after he had worked with so many different directors in the past already on many different movies. »Ready for the big fight?« Arno shot in Malik's direction and forced his face into a small grin and something that should look like a friendly and joyful expression, but Malik could see the effort it took him.

»I am always ready to kick Altaїr's ass.« He answered as he took his sword from the rag and spent a short moment just watching the steel glistening in the bright light. Of course, they had a variety of different props and different versions of the same weapon for each different scene or camera setting. This one was a real one, however. Usually, they only used them just for close ups but Malik liked the feeling of having a real sword in his hands.

»Big words!« Altaїr's voice sounded from the side and made him remember his existence which Malik had so much tried to just ignore and forget. »Big words for a dead man walking, Count Paris.«

»You are aware that you are the dead man walking, do you?« Evie laughed but did not at all sound a titbit more awake as she turned around to face Altaїr who was now slowly approaching the set. At least he had been quick to change into his costume. Unlike Malik, Romeo was allowed to wear lots of black and leather to make him look more mysterious. To Malik, Altaїr had as much mystery surrounding his character as a potato. »You have read Romeo and Juliet before, have you? I don't want to spoiler you if you haven't, but you die in the end, _deary_.«

Altaїr snorted as he slowly walked closer. Now that he was almost beside them, Malik noticed that at least Altaїr could have taken a shower before coming to work as he had already been running late anyway and something about the fact that he had not taken a shower before going to work as he usually did, told Malik that he had not been sleeping at home tonight. Well, of course, Altaїr had _hinted_ at this fact in the presence of Bellec, but Malik was never quite sure how much to take as face value of the things Altaїr would spew all day long.

»That might be true, Lady Rosalind, but that does not necessarily prevent Count Paris from getting his balls chopped off too right? After all, he tries to steal my lady. Maybe I could convince Bellec to have the writers add it in.« Altaїr was almost uncomfortably close, as he stopped on the other side of the weapon rag and was facing Malik now as he grabbed for his own sword. Their eyes locked for a moment that was lingering entirely too long for Malik's liking, but they did not have much time to wallow in their hatred for one another now, as Pierre Bellec entered the scene.

With a wink and a fleeting smile, Evie left their side to vanish into the dressing room herself to perform her great transformation from a moth into a butterfly. Around them all kinds of different people were walking all over the place, some of them hurrying their way to get something done. The camera men were finishing their settings, the stand-ins were done with the light test for the next scene and the great machine was springing into motion all at once as it always seemed. Malik had always loved the buzzing of activity on set when every little cog wheel sprung into motion at once.

No matter how much dislike Malik felt for Altaїr as a person, as an actor, he was good. Altaїr was one of the people who were very hard to take seriously at first. He never appeared to be very thoughtful, neither when it came to his work, nor his personal life or his own development. He portrayed himself to be lazy. He never seemed to bother reading his script at all and if anyone would ask him out of nowhere what it was about, he would not be able to tell, but as soon as the cameras were rolling he was completely there. As soon as he had to, he was Romeo Montague and he knew the weaknesses of his opponents by heart.

Sometimes he was amazed by the presence his rival had on set amazed him. He moved liked a cat, his gestures were precise and flowing, his words were well chosen every time he did not exactly follow the script. They had not had much time to practice their little sword fight which was initiated by Count Paris himself after he had found out about the secret relationship between the two star-crossed lovers in a futile attempt of either killing Romeo and having Juliet all to himself or having him flee from Verona. Needless to say that he was not going to succeed and that Romeo, the noble hero, would then spare Paris' life, not out of pity, but rather out of sheer benevolence. After all, Romeo was supposed to be the hero, no matter how many liberties the writers had taken to bring this man to life.

And yet, despite the fact that they had barely had time to practice, the fight flowed with ease. Malik was desperate to accredit this to his own skill when it came to scenes like these, but a tiny voice buried deep down in his mind was quick to tell him that it was maybe thanks to Altaїr's skill. Never in his life had Malik had experienced any fight scene that easily. He had worked with great action actors before, but no matter how much he had practiced with them, it had never been as easy as it was now. A part of him found great joy in the clashing of the swords, the banter between the two characters throwing insults at one another and the feeling of steel in his hands, but then there still was this angry little voice, this tiny little thing that kept reminding Malik of everything that Altaїr had taken away from him.

Romeo's insults were like acid. They burned through his skin and seeped into his very core and as Malik struck, he took him by surprise and blood was flowing.

※※※※※※※

The applause was almost deafening, even after all those years of being a part of this industry and of running from show to show, from interview to interview. Even though he would have liked to flinch, as the crowd erupted into cheering and hollering, Altaїr forced his face into a wide, full-teeth smile that never quite reached his eyes. No one seemed to notice that fact, however, and it did not even surprise him. Most people only saw what they wanted to see. They wanted to see a glamorous star, with a perfect, glamorous life. They did not desire to see the truth lurking behind the perfect mask. Sometimes Altaїr found himself wondering, if it was only him who had to put on that mask or if others felt the same way. Of course, he could not ask anyone, not even his mother. Especially not his mother, for her words were still everything he would hear in moments like this. _Smile, Altaїr. Those people pay for you to smile and be happy. And if you aren’t, just act like you are, that is your job._ Every time he was with Desmond, however, it seemed the young actor did not have the same thoughts going through his head and as Desmond sat down next to Altaїr now, he waved at the crowd with a small grin, that looked entirely like that of some stupid school boy, a class clown perhaps.

»So!« The host, a scrawny looking man in a blue suit named Steven said over the noise which now slowly started to die off, but never truly vanished for good. His black hair was already thinning out a little, but he did his best to cover it up in sleeking it back. Needless to say, that this did not work at all. He wanted to give himself the appearance of being relaxed and comfortable in his position as if he was talking to a friend or his son, as he gently tapped the tip of a pen on his notes. The only thing he achieved that way was that Altaїr now wondered just why or for what he would need a pen out here.

»So!« Desmond and Altaїr replied at once, shared a look and a smirk. This was all show. This was all about putting on an act for the crowd. Even as Altaїr grabbed Desmond’s neck in a brotherly gesture to give it a tuck, all of this was just charade. They had learned that the general audience was obsessed with them when they were side by side and so they used it to their advantage. Of course, this only caused new turmoil in the audience.

»Here we go again.« The host finally said and placed his hands on the table top of his moderation desk only to drum his fingers on the wood slowly as he looked at them over the rim of his black framed glasses. »One year later and Tybalt is still alive, running around and causing mischief and misery all over the place.« Desmond laughed at this and nervously brushed his fingers over his shirt as if to straighten it. His best friend had never been quite fond of being interviewed like this, but he did his best to play it cool as he said:

»Yes, yes I think that is correct.« He stated with a sly grin and a huff leaving his lips. »That fella is up to no good.« Some ladies in the audience gave a small screech as Desmond put on his best impression of a southern accent. For a boy from New York that was not that easy, despite the fact that Desmond had grown up on a farm.

»I figured.« The host, Steven, said. »I believe everyone had figured that out after last season's finale. So, how does it feel to play a villain on such a scale? You never did something like this before, did you?«

»Nah, it's my first time playing the big bad wolf.« Desmond smiled. »But it's nice for a change.« And as Steven wanted to comment on his words, Desmond was quick to continue. He had never liked stupid questions or jabs, especially not on TV. Desmond was a very straight forward guy, he liked things to be clear and Altaїr remembered vividly that he had been this way as a child already. That was what he had liked about the young boy back then. »No, it really is. And I must confess that I do like to kick Altaїr's ass.«

»And you do make a good job in that, I think we can all agree on that, am I right ladies and gentlemen?« Steve hollered and the crowd was stomping and cheering in agreement. Altaїr could only laugh at this and ruffle through Desmond's short hair. »Though I must admit« Steve said as the crowd toned it down again. »it is hard to imagine you two being mortal enemies when you sit there like this and look like the best of friends. Of course we all do remember your first movie together and it is true that you have grown to become good friends after _The End is Where We Begin_ , despite the age difference. But I was wondering just how it came to be that you, Desmond, got the role of Tybalt in this show. Your comeback to film or in this case TV came as a pleasant surprise for most of us, after you pursued your modeling career for quite some time, and yet it caused also great confusion. After all, you two do look quite alike, don't you? Isn't this an odd choice to have a villain and a hero who do look so much alike?«

»It's symbolism.« Altaїr grinned and the crowd laughed, but Desmond was quick to cut him off and continue with a faint grin himself. »That was what the casting director said, at least. Romeo is fighting his own inner demons that manifest in Tybalt and that is why he looks so much like Romeo.«

»Well it's either that or the casting director had a thing for you.« Altaїr grinned as he nudged his fist against Desmond's left biceps. His best friend truly was quite strong, but that was no miracle either. Desmond was quite athletic and fit, he was running every morning a couple of miles to stay in shape and Altaїr knew that Desmond's workout schedule was quite tight. Sometimes he would join in on the fun, but he did not enjoy Desmond's training routine. He did not enjoy lifting weights or doing pushups or running in circles. He enjoyed dancing. He enjoyed ice skating. He enjoyed climbing.

»No, I'm quite sure it's a metaphor.« Desmond responded nudging his own shoulder against Altaїr's.

»So anyway, Altaїr.«

He straightened in his seat again and looked at Steven, although he did not want anything more than to be home with his pet hamster now. »Yes, Sir.« He said, but he already knew what was coming.

»There are rumors going around that there was another fight on set between you and Malik this week. Is that where you got this cut on your cheek from?«

Almost instantly Altaїr's fingers shot to the deep cut on his left cheekbone, where Malik's sword had sliced his face. It had been a close call for sure and the turmoil on set afterward incredibly. Accidents were normal, injuries too. There was always something that could happen even though it should, but no matter how much he had assured the other members of the crew that it had been an accident and that it had been his own fault, he knew that it had not been an accident at all. Malik had wanted to hurt him. He had seen the fury in his dark eyes, the unbounded hate that he felt towards him. And maybe rightfully so.

»Oh no, that wasn't a fight.« Altaїr immediately replied and made a small discarding gesture with his left hand as he took his fingers from his face. »You see, we filmed a swordfight this week and we used real swords for a close up. We played around a little - and, well, my face got in the way.« He laughed as he shrugged off his cut. For an actor it was always horrible to be injured in the face, no matter how severe the injury really was. A cut, a scar could decide about the end of a career. Men had it a little more easily on that part and yet it was the second injury in his face in the cause of just a few weeks and would most definitely leave him with a scar on his left cheekbone. He had every right reason to be angry with Malik now, but of course Bellec had already threatened Malik right after the incident.

»Well, you do understand though that the media doesn't quite believe this story after the fight you had with Malik at a party just a couple of weeks ago. You two do not seem to get along well, do you?« Steven still smiled and looked playful, but Altaїr could see the glimmer of something entirely different in his eyes. Journalists were all the same. They were like cat on the hunt for mice and Steven seemed to think that Altaїr would make a fine dinner apparently. He waited for the tiniest misstep of the young actor and Altaїr was not willing to give him that.

He could see, out of the corner of his right eye, how Desmond wanted to say something, probably to help Altaїr out in this tense situation, but Altaїr was quicker. He was experienced in this business and he could deal with questions such as this one. His mother had taught him well all those years since he had first been dragged in front of a camera lens. »The media tend to get things wrong if they do not fully understand the situation. I have great respect for Malik and we do not have any kind of ill will for each other.«

»Wasn't he even the one who got you into acting?« Desmond suddenly asked to hinder Steven from asking too many uncomfortable questions directed at Altaїr and Malik's relationship. Maybe he even wanted to get Altaїr to say something he would regret later on, for now, he really took Altaїr by surprise. No matter how nice and charming Desmond could look, he could also be quite mischievous.

»No, that was my mother.« Altaїr answered with a cocky grin to make the audience laugh again. The truth was that no one had got him into acting because that would require the free will to make such decision and that he had not had. Born to two very famous and beloved actors, he had not had another choice, as was true for many children that were born into the industry. There was no private life. Every child born to a celebrity was doomed from the beginning and his own mother had been all too willingly to throw him to the sharks before he had even been able to speak.

»Yeah, but I mean later on.« Desmond urged him with another nudge. »Haven't you told me once that he was the reason you wanted to do movies?«

»Oh, did he?« Steven chimed in and leaned forward on his table, pleasantly surprised with the change in topic despite the fact that this was a departure from the route he apparently had wanted to take. Altaїr could already imagine the headlines tomorrow.

»Did I?« Altaїr tried to let his grin look sheepish while in reality, he tried to intimidate Desmond in baring his teeth like a wolf ready to bite him and make him regret that he had even dared to ask such a thing.

»You did! Some might say you had a little crush on him!« The audience was delighted and the previous topic about the fight all but forgotten, Altaїr, however, was mortified and Desmond seemed not even to notice.

His mother was still the life of the party, despite her age. Of course, she was not an old lady yet and it often seemed that she was not willing to age at all. It was not so much that nature would not try its best to make her grow old, only that his mother had started a full-fledged war against Mother Nature years ago already when she had been a young woman. To Altaїr, in his childhood, his mother had always been the most beautiful woman in the whole wide world with her smooth dark curls, her pale skin, and her bright blue eyes. Later he had thought that if he would ever find a girl to marry, that she should look a little like his mother.

As he now put away his phone and shoved it back into the front pocket of his black dress pants, he was already tired of seeing pictures of his mother being compared to Maria Thorpe and of reading the headlines that were addressing Altaїr and Maria's relationship. The media was sure that they were dating and they did nothing to make them think anything else. It was for the show, Altaїr told himself. Maria, however, seemed to think that there was more than friendship between them.

»You look so worried, darling.« His mother suddenly addressed him as she offered him a glass of her most expensive champagne. The wind outside on her large balcony was ripping on her hair. Usually, she would wear it in an updo of some sort, always elegant, always beautiful, but tonight she had decided on a more youthful approach as was underlined with her frilly little white dress. His mother was in a great mood as she always was when there was a party where she could once again feel like the darling she had once been here in Hollywood. It was either that or the drugs, but who was he to judge?

»Do I?« Altaїr huffed as he took the glass from her thin hands and took a sip immediately. He needed something stronger than that for sure, but he was at a party and he could not possibly get drunk here. Maybe his hamster would keep him company later when he would arrive back home. All this noise that was bouncing off the high walls of his mother's penthouse seemed too much for him now. He just wanted out. Out of this penthouse, out of this building, out of this city, out of this country. Just out. Maybe out of this life even.

His mother's fingertips were smooth but her long fake nails sharp and uncomfortable as she was putting them to his left temple. Her right hand was holding a glass and for nothing in this world, she would even think about putting her glass away. She had always been like this, even in situations like this when she would try to act motherly. _Acting like a mother_ seemed to be the right phrase for this too, for they both knew that she was not a mother. She was just acting. Sadly, his mother was extremely talented. As a child, he had believed her. »Oh, my sweet boy, get that frown off your face. We are having such a nice little party tonight. Are you not enjoying the party?«

Of course not, he wanted to say. He had never enjoyed parties. He went to them because he would get invited, he would drink too much, flirt too much and try his best not to get himself into trouble but that was about it. Attending parties always was part of the job, never something he could enjoy. Not even dancing at parties he could enjoy. There were always so many people preying on him. Waiting for an opportunity to catch him off guard. Waiting for a misstep they could use against him. Waiting to be seen with him. And every time he would do something that could lead to trouble for him in the media, he felt like dying. He felt like his stomach would devour itself in a matter of seconds. He was always on edge, never relaxed, always antsy, always waiting for some catastrophe to happen, for some guy who he had slept with to come out to the public.

It was true, they were living in modern times and diversity was held high in the media, yes, was even forced in the industry, but even though some gay stars would be praised for the bravery, the truth was that none of them would survive long. For a short while he would get praised if the world would learn the truth about him, but soon enough, after the first wave of support would die down, so would his career. He would become the same as every other gay actor: a mockery. He would no longer be seen for his talent. He would be seen as yet another gay actor and that he did not want. Most importantly, his mother would not want that.

»Not particularly.« He finally replied as he brushed off his mother's attempts to ease away the wrinkles on his forehead. As a child, he had thought his mother to be the most beautiful woman in the world, but now that he was so close to her, he could see all the little wrinkles she so desperately tried to erase every day with tedious amounts of crèmes and lotions and visits at the plastic surgeon nearby. He would like it better if his mother would age with grace and dignity, but instead, his mother had become just one of many senescent Hollywood divas. »Sorry, mother. I don’t feel too good today. Maybe I should just go home.«

»Oh, don’t be foolish Altaїr. You know how many of my guests came to see you, the big star!« She gave her best impression of a proud mother but sadly she had never learned to play that part all too well for her own jealousy she could not hide. »Do not tell me that it is because of that stupid show still. We all knew that it would not last long. Really, it is almost a little sad to see what became of Pierre. Oh, he was so talented back in the day. I enjoyed working with him as I was younger. But now he only produces one failure after the other. I told you from the start that you should not ruin your career with this show.«

»I like the show, mother.«

»No you don’t, Altaїr. We both know that you only got the part out of sentiment.« She said and threw her free hand in the air in a dramatic gesture. »Really, Altaїr, my sweet darling, I will never understand your sentiment. You should try to get out of the show. Just go and speak to your agent, he will surely find a way to get you off before it can drag you down. You should have left the part to Malik Al-Sayf. His career is going down anyway. It would not have been such a shame anyway. He is not half as talented as you and that you have shown him.«

This time she did sound proud and Altaїr could only down the rest of his champagne before he walked past his mother and went back inside to get rid of his glass – or find a new one. There was no point in arguing with his mother anyway. It was only half past midnight as he glanced at the clock and maybe he should just escape and go home instead of lingering about and drinking away his mind as he would usually do on such an occasion. The moment he walked towards the elevator doors, however, the doors opened with a pling to announce a new visitor. As he watched Maria leaving the elevator in her beautiful dark blue dress and her red pumps, a smile tugging at her full lips as she saw him, Altaїr felt his mother's hand on his left shoulder again like the claw of an evil witch.

»Don’t you want to greet our new guest, honey? I invited her just for you.« His mother hummed, her intentions clear in her voice despite the loud music and the chattering all around them. Altaїr could not help but feel sick, as he walked off once more to leave her behind. For once, it was Maria who looked a little lost as she walked in, but as Altaїr approached her and noticed how she wanted to open her mouth to say something, he just grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her back into the elevator with her. He could feel his blood boiling in anger as he threw one last glance at his mother before he pressed the button to go down.

However, before the elevator doors could shut and as Maria opened her mouth in confusion to ask a question he did neither want to hear nor to answer, he pulled her closer, leaned down and kissed her before the words could escape her lips.


	6. Chapter 6

As Malik arrived at the studio, he could already hear the ruckus inside the facility. First, he was sure that it was just the usual arguing between coworkers, just the usual noise and banter on set, but as he walked into the hair and makeup department, the fight next door only grew louder, although the voices were too muffled to catch the words. It was still early in the day, but late enough so that the studio was buzzing with activity like a beehive. To his surprise, though, he found Kadar, his personal horror by birth, in one of the hair and makeup chairs reading a gossip magazine. Every day he came on set only got weirder and weirder as it seemed. Not that it would be weird to see his brother reading a gossip magazine. He had seen his brother do weirder stuff, it was more that he always was surprised to realize that his brother, in fact, was able to read anew.

Passing by the chair that Kadar had chosen to occupy instead of doing anything productive after he was clearly done with getting ready to film his scenes, Malik glanced at the magazine he was reading and could not help but snort as he saw that Kadar was reading an article about their _stars_ , Maria and Altaїr, getting it on with each other. Apparently, Maria had succeeded in wooing him after all. For a few days now, the media was constantly bringing stories about Maria and Altaїr and their new found love for one another. Suddenly, there were former costars of them telling stories from the set of _The Secret Crusade,_ where the both of them had first worked together all those years ago, reporting about a certain sense of chemistry between the two even back then.

All of this was, of course, pure and utter bullshit and nobody knew this as well as Malik. Altaїr was an actor and actors were liars and that, those kisses for the paparazzi, holding hands with Maria, all of this, were lies. Only Maria was blind to them because she wanted it to be true. He almost felt a little sorry for her.

»You should stop reading crap like this or you will lose every last one of your scarce brain cells.« Malik mocked his brother as he threw a sideways glance at him in his chair. It was about time that _Mercutio_ would finally get killed off, although that was not yet about to happen. Kadar snorted but did not even look at him, his eyes glued to the pages. Kadar had always been a fan of Altaїr’s, of course, he would devour everything he could get into his greedy fingers about the man. »What's going on there?« Malik then asked and nodded in the general direction of the noise.

»It's Bellec. He's fighting with Altaїr. This is going on for almost an hour now. Everyone is pissed because of it. Nothing is going forward.« Which seemed to be the reason why Kadar had decided to rather sit here and read, instead of getting his actual work done.

»That's why you sit here and read.«

»That's why I sit here and read, exactly.« If Malik would not know it any better, he would almost attest that his brother was in a bad mood today and that was probably not because of the delay in filming today. Kadar was usually the cheerful one of them, no matter what was going on around them really. He was always in a good mood, always had a smile on his lips and he always knew how to brighten the mood of everyone around him. He was the dictionary definition of a so-called _Sunnyboy_. Today he seemed positively annoyed by the situation, though.

»What's wrong?« Malik sighed. »I thought you would rejoice seeing that your _OTP_ is finally canon. I know that you talked about this on your Tumblr.« Again he could not help but snort at the mere thought. Kadar had always rooted for those two, Maria and Altaїr, to get together and now that they were, he seemed to be far from being happy about it. Malik had long given up on trying to understand his baby brother’s weird behavior, still, it struck him as odd today and he could not even put his thumb on it.

»You will meet Sana today, right?«

The sudden change in subject almost startled Malik as the makeup artist was doing her magic on his stubbly face. »Yes.« He managed to get out as the brush the woman was using to conceal every little blemish on his face left his skin for a moment. »We will have dinner together. I believe she arrived last night. She is staying with her extended family here in L.A.«

»Until the wedding.« Kadar said matter of factly and Malik nodded. It was the truth, after all. The sole reason why Sana was coming to L.A. was to marry him. There was nothing more to it. Though of course, marriage was a big deal, he guessed. To him, it was not, however. This was nothing even remotely romantic. This was business, nothing else. His parents had made a deal with Sana’s parents and they, their children, would act accordingly to this contract. He was agreeing to support and care for her, and she agreed to meet his needs and give him children. To him, marriage was nothing but a business contract between two people anyway and a horribly outdated one at that for normal people too. It was something that made sense for people of wealth for sure to combine their fortunes and grow their influence, while at the same instant securing it. At least that was how Malik had chosen to view this whole ordeal.

»Who is going to get married?« Another voice suddenly interrupted him and his brother and the strong Italian accent made it unnecessary for Malik to even do as much as to glance at the door. Ezio had always had this talent for choosing the wrong time to interrupt a conversation.

»You.« Malik huffed as he looked at the Italian man who was still leaning in the doorframe, dressed as always in one of his expensive Armani suits. »Shouldn't you be in Florence right now enjoying your honeymoon? What are you doing here? You are not even scheduled to film until next week.« A moment of awkward silence fell upon them as Ezio made a small grimace and stepped further into the room only to lean his back against the wall beside Malik's mirror and ignoring the young makeup artist who thus had to shuffle around Ezio to get her work done.

»Well,« He began with this tone that clearly spoke of the most uncomfortable of stories that Malik would ever have the good fortune of hearing. »it turned out that my fiance, Cristina, decided she would rather bang someone else.« Ezio stated and shortly cleared his throat. He did not seem hurt, more bewildered at the sole prospect of someone not wanting him or choosing someone else over him. It was not that Ezio was blinded by his ego, but he had quite the strong sense of himself and his appearance. »However, she apparently only discovered that fact on the day of the wedding. She stood me up at the alter. Oh, my mother was furious!« He then laughed. »She only left a letter in her hotel room, saying that she was running away with her lover Manfredo Soderini! Manfredo, such a stupid name, really. Well, anyway, I am a free man - for now.«

»You do not seem angry.« Kadar chimed in helpfully as he finally put away the magazine and laid it on the desk in front of him, to the affront of the woman taking care of Malik.

»Because I am not.« Ezio shrugged his shoulders. »I barely knew her, after all. I am happy that she found her luck, even if it's with a man with such a stupid name. I would not have made her happy anyway. So! Who is going to get married?«

»My brother.« Kadar finally grunted and threw a dark glance at Malik, before he got up from the chair and finally left the room, maybe even to do his work for once. Still, Malik felt a little bewildered. Usually, it was him who was angry with Kadar and not the other way around. He had somehow entered unknown territory and did not know how to act upon it. _Weird_ , he thought but glanced at Ezio who looked after Kadar as the younger of the two brothers vanished out of the room.

»What's wrong with him?« Ezio huffed. »Did you steal all his chocolate again?«

Malik could only shrug, before he turned his attention back to the mirror, although his eyes briefly grazed the magazine again. For a second, his eyes lingered on the photo on the cover of Altaїr and Maria, snapped as they had been walking down Hollywood Boulevard for everyone to see. _Ridiculous_. He thought that he knew Altaїr well enough to know that the man would have never let himself be seen with Maria like this if he would want to keep this relationship a secret and he would not walk down Hollywood Boulevard only with sunglasses as cover with Maria if he had not wanted the paparazzi to see them and take pictures of them like that. All of this screamed fake at him and everyone who knew Altaїr should be well aware that he kept his private life a secret for the most part and would usually not do something like this. Sometimes Malik even thought that the reason for this had to be Altaїr's mother. He had seen how life could be when every detail would get dragged into the media for the whole world to see the dirty laundry that normal people and stars alike would rather hide. This behavior of Altaїr seemed to be entirely out of character.

Then again, what did he really know about Altaїr? They weren't friends and Malik most certainly decided not to change that or indulge in Altaїr's personal affairs. He simply hoped that they would soon wrap up the show, hopefully as it had been planned and not forced to because of ratings. He did not wish for this show to be the end of his career here in Hollywood. He had worked too hard for too long to have it come to this now.

As he left the room behind after a few more minutes, Bellec and Altaїr were still fighting, though their voices were muffled through the walls and Malik not able to make out the reason for their fighting, still. He felt a little more weighed down by his costume today, as he stepped on set as though he was walking through quicksand.

It felt weird to work here as of late and that not because of the little accident Altaїr and he had had a few days ago. Of course, it had not been an accident, no matter how plausible he had tried to sell it as such later, as Altaїr had been getting medical attention for the quite deep cut on his cheek. They all knew that this would probably leave a scar, but Altaїr, no matter how shocked and angry in the moment, had not seemed to mind this so much. There had been something weird about his demeanor afterward anyway and he had even tried to defend Malik and strengthen his claim that it had been nothing but a silly accident and nothing to worry about. Bellec had been furious, naturally, and Malik could not hold it against the producer either. They could not afford too many delays in their current situation with the media only waiting for the show to finally get canceled.

He greeted Fin, the cinematographer, as he walked past him and his coworkers, two other camera and sound men, who could be rarely seen alone or without Fin. They were an odd group and apparently Arno had arranged for them to work on this show too. Well, Arno most definitely knew weird people, but at least they were doing a good job. »They're still going.« Finnian Noble sighed as he caught Malik's glimpse towards the room close to the hair and makeup department that held Bellec's office here on set. »I doubt that we are able to do anything today if they keep going like that. Say adieu to your free time, I bet we will stay overtime today.«

Under different circumstances, that would be the last thing to worry about for Malik, today, however, he could not afford to finish late. This dinner with Sana was important, whether he liked it or not was not the point. He needed to meet her today. »They better finish or I’ll go in there and kick their asses, I swear to god.«

»I like your attitude, Malik.« Corbin O’Donnell chimed in with a grin as he sorted out the cables on the ground out of sheer boredom as it seemed. Corbin was shorter than his friends and maybe even considered to be slightly unfit, but Malik knew that his outward appearance was a little misleading to most people. His voice was always gruff as if he had already downed an entire bottle of scotch that early in the morning, which would not at all surprise Malik to see. He got a scar on his forehead after an accident on set when he had almost been killed by one of the spotlights. It had been sheer luck that he had survived this accident with just a little scar.

The third member of the odd little group around Arno Dorian, a man by the name of Ander Mistral, just snorted as a remark instead of adding something more creative to the conversation. Ander was one of those people who liked to claim that this production seemed to be cursed since the beginning of filming but refused to leave the team still because he thought that he could not leave his best friends hanging. His keynote seemed to be All for one and one for all - So it was no surprise that those three men were always mockingly called the three musketeers. Ander was a lot taller than Corbin, very pale and lanky in stature. Although he was always a little more reluctant to talk, his large blue eyes were all the more expressive to compensate the lack of actual words leaving his mouth. »What?« Corbin shot at his friend with one raised eyebrow and a mocking smirk pulling on his plump lips. » _Someone_ should kick their asses, right? Otherwise, he will never finish the job!«

»Why the hell are they fighting anyway?« Malik finally tried to make sense of this whole situation as he noticed how Ezio was stepping closer to them again. Unlike Kadar, Malik could understand why Ezio did not seem to be exactly devastated by his bride’s betrayal. Ezio was not _gay_ , at least not strictly speaking, but to Malik, it was obvious how he felt for Leonardo and the two of them sometimes did not even seem to try and hide their relationship from the public. Still, nobody seemed to catch up to them. However, it was only a matter of time, until Ezio's parents would try again to marry off their second born son as hey had done with Ezio’s older brother Federico already and he was sure that Ezio himself was quite aware of that. He would only try to enjoy hi freedom more now. They would allow Ezio a little while to _mourn_ his loss, but then they would again have him meet a young woman and just as Malik's parents, they too would not stop before they had gotten what they wanted.

»Who knows.« Fin huffed and brushed a hand through his dark curls before he scratched his thick stubbly jaw with his left hand and continued, his voice low and almost trying to be silent as if conspiring with him. »Do they need a reason to fight these days? Bellec is constantly in a bad mood and that starts to infect the entire crew.«

»I told you this show was doomed from the start.« Ander suddenly huffed from behind his camera. Only God knew what the hell he was doing anyway and Malik did not care enough to ask.

»You are always such a party pooper.« Corbin replied with a sly grin on his face, as suddenly the door of Bellec’s office was thrown open and Altaїr barged outside to stomp away from it a few steps.

»I’m not doing it!« Altaїr threw over his shoulder as he was followed by their foaming producer. Bellec’s entire head was red as a tomato as he stormed after Altaїr, followed only by Maria at his heels. »This is my last word, Bellec! I am not doing it!«

By now, the whole team was watching them with curious eyes and even Malik was surprised to see the anger on Altaїr's face as Bellec grabbed his shoulder to force him to turn around, but as Altaїr whirled around it was Maria who grabbed Bellec’s wrist in a grip that even looked stone crushing from afar.

»Enough of this, Bellec. It's not our fault that this show is turning to shit in your hands! He is not going to be your marionette and me neither! If you keep threatening any of us, you better look for a replacement. We do not need this show and you damn well know this!« Malik could see how Bellec wanted to immediately shoot something back at her, but one last warning look of Maria was enough to bring Bellec to raise his hands in surrender before he walked back to his office, slamming his door shut.

Within a heartbeat, everything around him turned back to normal. The staff started to chat again, sounds that had previously stopped at once returned and everything seemed as if they had not just heard this argument unfold.

※※※※※※※

Malik started to grow sick of the constant stream of notifications on Twitter or Facebook about Altaїr and Maria or their pictures in newspapers. They were a pretty couple for sure, but he hated the fact that all of this was false and that it was Altaїr who profited from this relationship while Maria had his back out of sheer loyalty and love. He would have never thought her to be that naive and silly. Then again, her behavior only again proved to Malik, that people were even more stupid than he originally thought.

But of course, there were not only pictures of the new Hollywood power couple surfacing, but even more rumors about their relationship being a publicity stunt, even more rumors about Altaїr being dishonest to his fans about his sexuality. Almost Malik felt pity or compassion for his rival in that regard. He knew, after all, how slander like this felt. Only that it was true in his case.

It was not the fear of how the media could react to him coming out of the closet and he had always been careful not to be found out by anyone, which was why he was extremely careful when it came to his partners in the past. He did not care what the media would think. His career would probably experience a boost if he would tell the world that, yes, he was in fact gay, judging by the wave of homosexual actors making careers just because they were gay and just because the producers forced diversity to garner good publicity for their movies and shows even though the sexuality of an actor should not have anything to do with their work. However, these successes were mostly short lived and it was not worth the risk in Malik's case. He thought about his family first. No matter how strict his parents were, he still loved them. They still were his family.

That was why he had chosen such a public place for his first meeting with his future wife Sana. Kadar had joked that Malik would one day marry one of their cousins and though it was true, at least Sana was not his first cousin and since the whole thing became real, his brother even stopped joking about it altogether.

As he waited in the fancy restaurant, he thought about Kadar’s weird behavior earlier this day and wondered what might have caused his brother to act the way he had acted. Then again, his brother had never been that easy to understand. Maybe it was just that he despised the fact that Malik did indeed give in to their parents' demands. Maybe he was afraid that the same would be expected of him later on too now that Malik was not setting a good example for his brother.

Kadar, as he so often did, failed to see that Malik preserved his little brother’s freedom like this. As long as Malik would play by their parents' rules, his little brother had all the freedom in the world, but since Kadar always had had more freedom than him, he seemed blind to see it.

He had picked this restaurant because it sold the idea of privacy with their little corners and romantic atmosphere, but it was public enough so that Malik could be sure to be seen by at least one or two paparazzi. He had never before spoken to Sana and he only knew a photo of her. She was far from being ugly, to his luck, but he had never put any trust into the photographies of really anyone.

Malik let his eyes wander over the faces of the other people around. Mostly couples had gathered around him. Some were talking eagerly over their Italian dinner, some ate in silence, some were having their first date here, some already came for years. Malik could tell the signs by now. He could distinctly separate couples who just started dating and who were in a relationship for longer very clearly just by the way they were sitting across from each other at the dinner table. Hollywood was as superficial as it could get, but even here true love could be found, he guessed. The thought saddened him, for he would probably never find his own true love and even if he would, he would never be allowed to show it - or at least not as long as his parents would wander this earth.

A young woman caught his eyes as she entered the restaurant and looked around. All his opportunities to flee the scene were gone in a poof, as Sana’s dark eyes found him and as he could see a wide smile spreading all over her beautifully chiseled face, he knew that the life he had once dreamed of surely was over and gone now and yet, he thought, maybe he would be able to deal with that, as long as Sana would become something like a friend.

The night hung low over Los Angeles, as Malik found himself wandering the streets after he had dropped off Sana at her relatives house. He did not know how to feel about this whole situation and that was entirely the reason why he had left his apartment again to take a walk down the busy streets of Los Angeles to at least try and get his head clear as he was strolling down one boulevard after the other, slowly descending into the darker areas of town. He had no clear destination in mind as he was mindlessly walking.

Sana was not only excitingly beautiful, she was intelligent too, even though Malik would never have thought it. Just a little he felt bad about not thinking that she could be intelligent too, but usually, those women who were going to be send off to other states to marry, never possessed any talents or much wisdom because no one in their family really cared to give them a proper education. They often were far too young and so Sana had been a pleasant surprise to him. She was a progressive young Turkish woman and she seemed to have learned quite a lot of her father Yusuf. To Malik, it had become clear fast that she was not that type of woman who would take any shit from her man or any man at all and that was something Malik could greatly admire.

He thought about his own mother, a tiny, plump but unbelievably stern and tough woman. His mother was strong, but she would never openly disagree with her husband. His father was not a monster, but he was a patriarch and he did not know it better, just as his mother did not know it better. She would submit, no matter what and yet Malik would never question their love and companionship. It was love that had developed from nothing, born from circumstances and that was something he could only hope to share with Sana one day.

And yet, no matter how nice and pleasant their conversation had turned out to be over dinner, he felt a weight pulling him down even more than before. She was a nice girl and she definitely deserved better than to be stuck in a loveless marriage with an old grump like him. She was dreaming of a bright future, of studying law and making her mark on the world. And he? Well, he would just drag her down as he always did. He did not have a clear intention in life, he had lost his purpose long ago. He could feel his career dying, he could feel how he was getting replaced by other actors, more talented actors. He ha no plan B.

That seemed to be his life’s curse, as it appeared. And, oh, if his brother would not have to pay the price for his actions, he would just try and escape all of this madness. Escaping seemed so very much easier than living a lie. And yet, he just made one step after another, he just moved on with his life, he just continued with all of this, he just did what was expected of him.

A sound to his left suddenly caught his attention and managed to make him snap back to reality and out of his dangerously worrisome thoughts. He had not even noticed how empty the streets had gotten on his way through L.A. this late at night. The sounds had grown scarcer around him and so the sounds he heard grew all the more prominent now.

First, he was not too sure what he heard, thinking that he maybe walked in on a couple having a little fun in public in some alleyway, but as he kept on walking, coming closer to the opening of said alleyway, the moans and weird grunting noises, began to make more sense to him.

※※※※※※※

Maybe he had overdone it this time. He would not argue with anyone who would say he did. He had maybe drunk a little too much. Maybe he should not have tried to start arguing with a whole group of men outside the bar he had just stumbled out of and right into said group, ultimately throwing one of them to the ground and refused to apologize for it. He was a star after all, wasn't he? And he had made this fact unmistakably clear as he had been yelling it across the street like a maniac.

Maybe he should not have started to yell insults at them and make a stand. Maybe he should not have started to recite Shakespeare either. Maybe he had been begging to get into a fight with those brawny men who had not seemed very fond of him, his work or actors who thought themselves above the little man in general. Maybe he had even done so on purpose. He, of all people, was not able to really tell. Not because he was drunk, but because he rarely knew what was getting into his mind and making him do the things he was doing lately.

Maybe he was starting to lose his mind. Maybe he was indeed following in his mother's footsteps, even though he had always hoped to be more like his father. Not that he had ever known him, but he seemed like a pretty cool dude from the material he had managed to look into and the stories his mother had once told him as he had been little. Those had been better times, but short lived too.

Anyway, he found himself being thrown into the next alleyway and straight ínto some bins standing there, which fell to the ground on impact just as he did, in a matter of mere seconds, getting the shit kicked out of him. He would not even claim that he did not deserve this. Oh, he completely did deserve what he got. In fact, he would go as far as to applaud those men kicking him as he was already lying on the ground. To be fair, though, it was probably because of the state of intoxication he was in that caused him to not get up from the ground and fight back.

He probably should fight back, he thought briefly between two kicks to his stomach, otherwise, he would soon join the ranks of sadly departed actors who had died too young under the influence of alcohol. His death would then get exploited in politics and the media for sure as an ever prominent example to their already hopeless and lost youth to stay away from alcohol and drugs. Deaths of stars that even stood mildly in connection with either one of those two things had the same educational merit as premarital sex in horror movies since the beginning of horror movies, only that the death of a star felt more real to those already tainted generations than a maniac swinging an axe at copulating teenagers.

Altaїr had never been a fan of blaming alcohol for anything. He had never blamed the alcohol for his mother's behavior towards him or the things he had had to see and endure in his early childhood. The alcohol was never at fault for anything. Humans were. Still, he found himself blaming the alcohol now for his incoherent thoughts. He was, after all, just human and like all human beings, he tended to blame other things than himself whenever it was convenient.

He barely realized how the men left him after they were satisfied with the result they had achieved. A moan escaped his dry and bloody lips as he tried to sort out his limbs and decide which part went up and which down. This decision should be much easier than it was, he thought briefly, but already lost the thought again just seconds after the fact.

It took him quite a while to untangle his limbs and bones. He had not felt his entire body in such a way for a long time. It felt good. Despite the pain shooting through the body, that caused him to moan and groan like a pathetic little whump in a cheesy movie. That right here was the exact reason why he loved to go beyond his limits when he would do his workouts. To feel his body. To feel alive. To feel _something_ \- anything at all. He would never have thought that he would get to this point in his life but now he had arrived with fanfares and confetti as it seemed.

His mother used pills and alcohol to not feel, to numb herself so that she would be able to put on her enormous fake smile for everyone around him. He, however, longed to feel. He tried to sit up and enjoyed, yes, reveled in the pain that was making him hiss in pain.

Suddenly there was a hand grabbing his left upper arm to help him up while Altaїr still tried to make sense of his surroundings with his head trying actively to sabotage him in the process.

»What did you do this time?« He knew the deep rumbling voice that hit his ears, but he was not quite sure if it was addressing him or someone else lying beaten up in some dirty alleyway.

Another groan left his lips as he finally made it into a standing position. His knees were shaking and all in all on the verge of refusing to do their work. He could almost hear his kneecaps talking to each other, discussing how they would just pack their things and go to leave the moron they had been carrying around for twenty-six years once and for all.

It was dark in the alley and the streetlamps from the boulevard the alley was opening up into, could not quite reach him here. His head was still spinning out of control and his vision a little blurrier than most of the time. However, Malik Al-Sayf’s face he would recognize even under a thousand in a dark cave.

»Out of all the alleys in Hollywood, you had to come into mine.« Altaїr found himself spouting with a grin as he, hopelessly, leaned against Malik.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter this time because I failed to find the motivation to write it.

If he had been sure of anything in his life, then that he would never find himself in a situation like this. Malik Al-Sayf would have never even fathomed that he would one day find himself sitting at the beach beside a very much drunken Altaїr Ibn-La-fucking’Ahad. How did it even get to that point? After he had helped Altaїr up in that alley where he had been lying between garbage cans, he had walked with him for a moment, ready to part ways at the first opportunity. He could not stand this man's presence. Not at work and surely not in the middle of the night out on the streets. Still, somehow they had ended up out here. Even though the light pollution of a city such as Los Angeles made it hard to even remember that there were supposed to be stars watching down on them at night, out of the noisy and vibrant streets at the beach, the real stars twinkled even brighter than those who had their names on Hollywood Boulevard.

As a young boy it had been his dream to have his own star on the Walk of Fame, now, thinking about this superficial world he was living in ever since he had picked up acting, the famous Walk of Fame so many tourists wanted to see, had gotten quite the different meaning to him. Those stars in the pavement were just as superficial as everything else in this city and exactly as fake too. Since the real stars were almost impossible to see at night, the people of Hollywood had created their own starry sky on the pavement to ignore the truth that was above their heads. That was how things tended to work in this city. The people living in L.A. would never just accept the reality of things - or at least not as long as they would be able to form it to their liking instead. Why accept the damages that were done to the ozone layer or the environment as a whole, when it was much easier to celebrate something that at least resembled the beauty of the real nature?

Malik had not grown up in a big city. He was used to quieter neighborhoods and a community of people who almost cared for one another. He had not grown up close to a beach too and although the sounds of thick, lush forests were usually more soothing to him, the waves that were now gently crashing against the shoreline and the wooden stilts of the pier, had something calming.

»Do you even know how lucky you are?« Malik would have almost forgotten Altaїr's very existence if the man beside him had just decided to keep his mouth shut or, preferably, doze off in his current state of intoxication that still had not worn off by now. Not even the beating that Altaїr had seemingly gotten had changed something about this.

Malik would have surely never imagined that he would one day find the great Altaїr Ibn-La'Ahad on the ground of a dirty alleyway in the midst of garbage and dented garbage cans like he was just some regular guy after a night of heavy drinking. He could have walked off. He knew that. The moment his curiosity had gotten the better of him which had led to his discovery of Altaїr beaten up in this alley, he could have just walked off and ignored what he had seen. _Curiosity killed the cat_ , that was something he just could not get out of his mind ever since he had decided to help Altaїr.

First, he had been unsure whether or not he should rather bring Altaїr to the hospital in case he was severely injured, but as Altaїr had started laughing again and clung to his side, clearly too buzzed to walk without help, he had soon understood that the injuries he had gotten were not even severe enough to sour Altaїr's mood. They would eventually, Malik mused.

»Am I?« Malik replied with a huff of air leaving his mouth. Even though the days in L.A. were way too warm for the winter months for his liking, after having grown up in areas where blizzards were common, he felt a chill running down his spine now. He blamed the sudden gush of wind coming from the sea and carrying the salty air with it. »How am I lucky?« He found himself asking although he did not even know if Altaїr, right now, was aware of the things he was saying. Probably he was not. And although Malik would have usually not engaged in a conversation with Altaїr – and most certainly not in a setting like this – he found himself intrigued even.

»You have a brother.« Altaїr replied and Malik, for a moment, was not entirely sure if that was his answer until Altaїr tried to continue. _Trying_ was the key word here because first, he made a sound as if he was about to barf right into the ocean. He did not, thankfully, he only held on to the railing of the pier a little more. »I always wanted a brother or a sister. But older ones. I don’t want to be a big brother. I want to be a little brother.«

»Really? Well, you can have mine for all I care.« Malik shrugged with a small snort, even though Kadar was younger than Altaїr and technically that would then make Altaїr a big brother. Malik could not even begin to understand how weird this conversation was. Surely it would only go downhill from there, after all, it was Altaїr who he was talking to. He did not know a single person who was able to hold a decent and almost intelligent conversation with this man for longer than maybe five minutes. Weirdly enough though the few friends that Altaїr seemed to have, somehow had not yet strangled Altaїr.

»Noooo, Malik! That’s nothing to make fun of!« Altaїr even made an attempt to punch his shoulder but failed miserably. »You should cherish your brother!« And before Malik could even begin to form an answer to that, thinking that Kadar would love to hear those words out of the mouth of his idol, Altaїr's voice suddenly grew softer. »Y'know, Mal, I always envied you.«

»You're drunk.«

»Of course I am! That's the whole point of drinking!«

»And why exactly did you decide to get drunk?« It was almost ridiculous to ask him something like that. He did not even expect a decent answer from this man anymore and for all he knew, Altaїr did not need a reason to get drunk. And really, what answer could Altaїr give him in his current condition anyway? If he was honest, he too was longing for a drink but unlike Altaїr who spit on everything that others held dear to their hearts, he could not just simply go and have one. It was forbidden, like everything else in his life always seemed to be forbidden. Sometimes he wondered if he would be happier, how his life might have turned out until now if he had been honest with his parents from the start. Would he be in a serious relationship then by now? Casual sex was one thing, but a serious relationship with another man? Here in Los Angeles? It was almost unthinkable. So why should he waste his energy on thinking about it?

Altaїr shrugged his shoulders. »It's what I do.«

»You are a nasty piece of shit, do you even know that?« Malik sighed as he leaned his head against one of the vertical struts of the railing. »You have everything. You have talent, you have a great career, you are young, you are good looking, you are charming, you have a beautiful girlfriend, the people love you, you get every role you want and yet all you ever do is spit on those things, mock the people that like you for doing so. You do everything in your power to ruin your career as it seems. I mean, I don’t care as long as it was just your career you're ruining.«

Altaїr snorted and for a moment Malik felt tempted to push him off the pier and let him drown in the ocean. And why shouldn’t he? No one would notice. He would probably even get away with murder if he did.

»Of course I know that.« He sounded oddly sober all of the sudden, so much in fact that Malik started to question if all of this up until now had been nothing but an act. It would not even surprise him. Altaїr, despite everything he felt towards this man, was a great actor. »I am an asshole. I am a complete and utter cock. I do nothing except hurting other people.« Only now Malik noticed just how much effort it had to cost Altaїr to suppress his original accent when he was talking because now it was undeniable that he was at least part British. Somehow it made him more human, maybe even a little more endearing, even though Malik could, at the moment, not decide why he felt that way.

Maybe it was because Altaїr was sold to the world as this all-American boy by the media, except that he wasn’t. He was half Syrian and half British. He was everything except an all-American boy and yet he had always put so much effort in appearing this way. Weird. Weird, how he noticed this little detail just now, years after he had first met Altaїr. »And as for my oh so beautiful girlfriend?« He laughed a little. »Even her I treat like shit. Maria is awesome. She is beautiful. She is nice. She is gorgeous. She is eloquent. She is intelligent. She is talented! She could have every man she wants and yet she wants me. And what am I doing? I play her because that’s what I do. Because let's face it, she doesn't even want _me_. She wants the _idea_ of me. And that she has in common with all these other people that are out there, preying on me. She thinks we are alike despite the fact that we are worlds apart but she is unable to see it.«

This was not an act. It struck Malik a little bit by surprise, as he realized that this self-loathing that Altaїr portrayed right then and there, was not an act. »I should treat her with respect. I should go and shower her with presents and love or marry her right on the spot, instead, I run around from bar to bar, get drunk and try to hook up with all kinds of people.«

»So, why do you do this then?« Malik replied although he did not know if he wanted to hear an answer to that question. »If you know all of this, why are you doing this? Why not changing then? If you really want to change, that is.«

Altaїr grew silent for a moment and as Malik turned his face to look at him, he saw how Altaїr stared blankly ahead on the sea. There was a certain sense of longing in his amber eyes and for a moment, Malik was almost sure, that Altaїr in fact desired to throw himself into that water. Why had it to be him who was witness to this existential crisis Altaїr was now apparently going through? He did not wish to find anything sympathetic in Altaїr. He did not wish to see a human being in the man who had effectively single handily destroyed Malik's career simply in being there. No. This was not the problem. Malik was not a sore loser. He had never been. The problem, the real problem, was not that Altaїr stole roles from him and got showered with awards for these roles. He had been better than Malik, he was better than Malik and that was okay. He could live with Altaїr being more talented than him. The problem was, that Altaїr had not wanted a single one of those roles in earnest. He had taken those parts from Malik only to show him that he could and not once he had given his best performance.

However, as he now watched Altaїr staring blankly ahead, it was hard not to see a human being in him. Somewhere buried in the asshole that Altaїr liked to show the world, there was indeed a young man who was dealing with his own demons. There was no way of denying that Altaїr was a good looking man either, at least that Malik had to give him and that was why the public eye rested upon Altaїr. He was a man of many faces. But suddenly, to Malik, it seemed that he was allowed a glimpse of a face that the rest of the world was not going to see anytime soon. Under different circumstances, had their paths crossed differently, would they not be enemies, maybe they would be lovers. But of course, that thought alone was nonsense. They were not inside a movie. And they were not the characters that they had once portrayed.

»Kadar told me that you are going to get married.« Was this the answer to his question or was this Altaїr trying to mislead his attention? For once, Malik really could not tell.

※※※※※※※

He did not ask why or how Altaїr had managed to crash on his couch once again. It was just how it was, as Desmond entered his flat in the early morning hours as the sun was not yet rising again but early enough so that the first people started their days of work out there in the real world – a lace that Desmond would never be a part of, as it sometimes seemed to him, even though he acted as if he was.

The sun would not rise until seven, so he had at least two hours left still. Desmond was pretty much a night owl, which was, without a doubt, favorable in his business. Sometimes he wondered if it wouldn't be better to just quit acting and modeling all together to just be a barkeeper, just some random guy in some random bar who mixed drinks and gave a little dose of healthy life advice every now and again. He liked being a bartender. He liked feeling like a part of the real world. In his head, this sounded a lot nicer than it probably actually was, but at least for a moment, Desmond wanted nothing but give into this beautiful little dream his brain was establishing in front of his eyes.

He wanted to let himself drift on the waves of it, just for a moment, until he would allow the harsh reality to take him back. He knew that most barkeepers were struggling to make a living in the city of angels or anywhere for that matter. Having his own bar would be worse, even though he knew exactly how he would call it: _Plan B_. That had always been the name he would have given his bar because it pretty much would be his plan b - Not that he had ever had a proper plan for his life, to begin with. And did it matter anyway? His only plan had always been to be as far away from home as possible, to be as far away as possible from the farm and the countryside to do his own thing and not have to listen to his parents any longer. Well, he had achieved that, apparently, as he noticed when he meandered into the kitchen, opened his fridge and noticed that there was nothing in it.

He was independent. Eureka!

Well, it was not as if he would have planned on having dinner now anyway - or breakfast. He was way too tired to even think about eating and yet the look into his fridge was some kind of ritual ever since he had been a kid when he would have come home from school as if to make sure that his parents took care of him not starving. Of course, at home, at his parents’ house, the fridge had always been stocked and there had always been something fresh cooking on the stove or baking in the oven. His mother's kitchen had always been filled with the most delicious smells and a feeling of warmth and _home_.

With a sigh, Desmond closed his fridge again, left the kitchen and wandered towards his bedroom door. He had to pass through the living room to go to his bedroom and thus his eyes fell upon Altaїr one more time. Having the star sleeping on his couch was hardly new and as always, Desmond did not expect to get a decent answer for Altaїr's intrusion this time too.

They were always playing the same old game. Desmond would ask him what had led Altaїr to crash on his couch, and his best friend would distract him with something else. Desmond was not a very easily distractible person, but he played along. He would never force something out of his friend because, for the most part, Altaїr would come to him to talk about the things that were bothering him if he thought he needed to get something off his chest. That was how their friendship worked and for the most part, it really did work. Somehow Desmond was always that one friend in Altaїr's life, who did not feel the desire of choking him to death, no matter how stupid he was behaving. And it was not as if Altaїr had never attacked him.

There were times in which Altaїr would attack absolutely everyone that was standing in his way.

He paused for a moment as he was on the same level as the couch and looked down on Altaїr's face on which the light that was coming from the street lamps outside shone to illuminate his features. A few slight bruised were starting to blossom on his stupid face. Maybe it was about time to change something in the way their friendship worked, he thought. He was nineteen by now and not a kid anymore. Clearly, Altaїr was drunk again, he could smell it from his position even. Bellec would flip out.

Desmond turned around to face his bedroom door and walked towards it, but as soon as he had switched on the light inside the room, he turned around again, stomped back to the couch and slammed his hands down on the backrest. Either the sudden noise or the impact shook Altaїr awake quite well, so that the actor shot up into a sitting position, grunting shortly and blinking fast.

»What the hell« Altaїr muttered while he still seemed to do his best to fight against the sudden state of being awake. He looked positively like a man who had the worst headache that was ever known to mankind and Desmond did not even feel sorry for putting him through that. If anything he would make it worse for Altaїr.

»Did you have a good time?« Desmond replied a little louder than necessary, only to see his friend finch in agony. He was not angry, only tired. He was tired of Altaїr's escapades for one part and tired in general for the most part. He was tired of seeing Altaїr in a state like this. »To what magical being have I address my thanks for the honor of your visit, Messere Montague?« Even that late at night Desmond found it in himself to mock his best friend. Seemingly, he was not yet tired enough but what Altaїr blurted out next, made Desmond wish instantly that he had not woken him up.

»I did it, Dessy!« Altaїr, suddenly wide awake and alert, blurted out. He almost jumped up as he sat up on the couch even more and put his hands on the backrest of the couch. A part of Desmond thought that Altaїr looked like a child at that very moment. »I kissed him!«

Not only did Desmond realize now, that he had not really wanted to hear the answer to his questions at all, but also that he felt the sudden urge, the incredibly strong desire, to smash his own head against a wall. He felt like he had been thrust into a very bad, very cheesy movie all of the sudden and there was no way out. Of course, he knew who Altaїr was talking about, yet that knowledge only made things worse for Desmond.

»You’ve better be kidding.« That was all that Desmond managed to get out as he tried his best not to roll his eyes because he was aware that Altaїr did not like that.

He did not know why, but since he and Altaїr had first met on the set of The End is where we begin, there had been a connection between him and the older actor. In addition to playing his big brother, Altaїr had pretty much _become_ his big brother. Despite the age difference of seven years, they had been friends ever since and Desmond was aware of the amount of trust that Altaїr put into him. He was the only one of them who knew about Altaїr's sexuality and the secrets that came with it. He did not just _suspect_ like Ezio did, he _knew_ it. He knew it because Altaїr had told him. That was a huge deal. It would be for anyone, but for Altaїr this secret had always been ten times bigger than for any other young man out there. He knew how much it had ballast Altaїr in the past and still did.

However, no matter how big the trust was that Altaїr dared to put in some mediocre barkeeper, Desmond was also quite aware that he did not know all the reasons for the fear that his own sexuality had put into Altaїr and caused his sometimes absurd and borderline self-destructive behavior. Like this relationship with Maria. Everyone who knew Altaїr for longer than just a few weeks knew that this was as far away from being a real relationship as it could get. He would never put it past Altaїr that he was indeed sleeping with Maria, but while she was hopelessly in love with him - which made this charade all the more worse - he was merely using her to keep up his own facade to the world. If no one else, with this, he was only hurting himself.

Malik Al-Sayf, on the other hand, well, _he_ had always been a different story. Desmond was aware that Altaїr had always looked up to the older actor, that he had always admired him. To Altaїr being allowed to play the role of Malik's boyfriend in this movie where they had all met for the first time, had been a big thing and that not only because it had given his career the push that it had needed. Desmond, as the only person, had always been aware that Altaїr had fallen in love with Malik back then already. Sometimes, though, Desmond found himself wondering if it was the idea of being with Malik was the thing that Altaїr had truly fallen in love with.

»Well, what was I supposed to do?« Altaїr finally erupted as he jumped up from his couch and began to pace through Desmond's narrow living room like a caged tiger. »I wasted so much time admiring him from afar! I did everything so that he would pay attention to me! I surpassed him! I made sure that I would become more famous than him so that he would not have a choice but to see me! And now he is going to marry some girl he does not even know!«

Altaїr was not used to the feeling of being the loser of a game, that much was certain. He was used to always getting what he desired and Malik was the exception to this rule. Altaїr was used to setting the rules and the paste. He had always known that he could get anything and anyone that he desired if he would just decide that he did want it. The same was true for Maria. She had yearned for his attention for the longest time but Altaїr had ignored it until _he_ had decided that he could use her. And Maria, like everyone else in the past, did not even understand that she was being played, that she was nothing but a pawn on the chessboard that was Altaїr's life. »I told you right from the start that this plan of yours was bound to fail.«

»Yes, you did!« Altaїr bellowed and threw his hands in the air. For the first time, Desmond was worried that his neighbors might hear them. The walls were paper thin. »You did warn me and I failed! I did! And what am I supposed to do now?« He stared at him like a wild beast that was ready to attack him on the spot. Desmond knew this look well. He had dealt with Altaїr before when he was in a state as he was now. It was him, always him, who made sure that no one else would ever see Altaїr like this. »I need a drink.« Oh, he really was growing tired of this.

»No, you don't.« Desmond replied, his voice firm and his eyes dark as he stared Altaїr down, or at least he tried to. »You need to sleep for once. You need to rest.«

»Who needs sleep anyway?« Altaїr laughed and to Desmond, the saddest part about this was that Altaїr meant what he was saying. »No, I'm pretty sure that a drink is what I need.«

»Maybe you should sit down and talk to me, how about that? I mean, so what you kissed him? What's the big deal? You were drunk, I assume? You can always blame the alcohol if things turn uncomfortable between you.« Desmond replied with a sigh as he coaxed his own body into moving again to bridge the distance between them so that he could grab Altaїr's shoulders in a mixture of reassurance and gentle pressure, as he guided Altaїr back to the couch. As Altaїr flopped down, their old ritual began as if they would do this every night. Desmond went to fetch the remote control of his television to switch it on before he sat down next to his friend. Altaїr did not like watching TV, that was why he did not even possess one himself, but now the noise of the TV was the soothing sound in the background that they both needed. »It wouldn't be the first time that you have kissed someone who did not want it. Just shrug it off, play the usual idiot, no one needs to know that you are not the idiot that you like to portray.« In an instant, Altaїr's head rested against his shoulder and Desmond breathed out a sigh. »You are just a big baby, that's it.«

A big baby with too much money, influence, and good looks. A big baby with a career and talent that he liked to waste and spit on instead of really using it. A big baby that ran around hurting other people without a care in the world. Desmond could not even blame him, he supposed. He was not a big fan of putting the blame solely on a parent, but in this case, Altaїr's mother was the one person responsible for all of this. This was yet another secret that Altaїr wished the world would never get to know.

»Maybe I am.« Altaїr murmured and Desmond just put his arm around Altaїr's shoulders as they sat together like this. Sometimes it was odd to him, whenever he would remind himself that he was only nineteen years old and the man that was sitting next to him and looked so much like him too, was already twenty-six and thus a grown adult. It was weird how their places were swapped, but Altaїr was his friend and he was drunk and Desmond felt honored that he was the one person Altaїr would come to. »But he kissed me back.«

 


	8. Chapter 8

He already knew what he had to expect if he would open the door and leave the feigned safety of his mother's penthouse. He could see the reporters and paparazzi down on the street in front of the building as they were waiting for him out there, desperate to get a shot of him. A part of him even wondered if he might have tried to provoke something like this if that had been his unconscious goal all along. He had always been living to provoke other people and make their blood boil, and yet, he only felt numb as he looked down from his mother's balcony. He could hear her TV running inside the lounge and as he looked back over his shoulder, he saw her, sitting on her white sofa, dressed in a neat white outfit. His mother was not only beautiful, she knew how to dress. She was wearing a pair of white culottes and a nice silk blouse on top, her hair skillfully braided into a bun. Her eyes were resting on the Television and the way she sat there could easily be mistaken for being comfortable and calm by strangers, Altaїr, however, knew that she was boiling inside. He saw it in the way that she was twitching her left foot after she had crossed her legs and spread her arms leisurely over the backrest of the sofa.

She was fuming.

Growing up with a mother like her, a mother who was ruled by her bad temper and a personality that was mainly shaped by her egoism and narcissism, he knew the signs of an approaching storm when he saw them. However, he was not a child anymore and he could not cower in fear of his own mother in some closet any longer. Sometimes he missed those days. He was too big for the closet now. He was too big for cowering in fear either.

His mother's anger towards him would show differently now, that he was an adult, then it had as he had been a child and at her mercy. There was no belt anymore, just disappointment. He could not even tell which was worse. That was, apparently, how fucked up he was. It would have been sad, under different circumstances. Now, however, he knew that he needed to face his demons and that he could not stay outside on the balcony forever. With a sigh, he emptied his glass and enjoyed the moment in which the whiskey was burning his throat before he headed back inside.

»It is all over the news.« His mother's voice addressed him the second that he went inside, but Altaїr strolled towards the bar in the back of the room to refill his glass again. Maybe Desmond was right, he thought, maybe he did, in fact, have a problem. Well, then again, if he had, alcohol was the least of his problems, he assumed.

»What did you expect? Of course, it is.« Altaїr murmured as he poured himself another drink and prepared one for his mother too. He had learned way too early what his mother liked to drink and how to appease her when she was angry with him. Maybe he should follow Desmond’s example and become a bartender too. He knew how to mix a martini since he had been eleven.

»And you are proud of this fiasco, I take it.« She replied and her voice was so calm that it was clear to him that she tried to coax him into a feeling of security. Sometimes he wondered if she was aware that he had grown up with her as his mother and thus knew all her dirty little tricks by heart. Then again, she had been drunk most of the time anyway, surely she had forgotten most of it.

»What makes you think this?« He replied with the same sense of utterly feigned calmness as he walked towards her with silent steps and handed her the martini glass in his left hand. Her blue eyes were sharp as daggers as she looked at him, but Altaїr sat down anyway on the armchair that stood next to the sofa. He had never liked sitting next to his mother on the sofa, which was, apparently odd. Whenever he would see children interact with their parents, those kids were always desperate for being close to their parents, for cuddling and hugging. He had never been like this, or, to be more precise, he had soon grown out of it. To him, as he had reached a certain age and understood his mother's behavior as it had been meant, he had dreaded being close to her. All those photo shootings of the past when he had needed to be close to his mother and smile into the camera by her side, were still engrained in his memory and made a cold shiver run down his spine.

His mother, unlike other mothers, had never been warm and loving. Her arms had never been open.

»Your calmness.« She hissed. »Are you even aware that your career could suffer from this? Is this really what you want, Altaїr? Is this how you want to repay me for the sacrifices I made for your career to flourish? Are you going to throw all of our hard work out of the window like this? And for what?«

He glanced at the TV so that he would not have to look at her. _Yes_ , he thought, the sacrifices that _she_ had needed to make. It was the same old story every time. »Did you ever regret having me?« The words just slipped from his tongue as the picture was flashing on screen again. He and Malik Al-Sayf, kissing in the dark of the nightly pier. Well, it had not been their first kiss. As he looked at his mother now, she seemed honestly affronted by his question but instead of answering it, she rather did what she always used to do.

»Don't be silly, Altaїr. You are my star.« _Of course_ , he thought, but he did not say anything. He just snorted and took another sip of his drink. »Oh come on, Altaїr! Is this how you thank your mother? Really? Have I raised such an ungrateful brat now? Haven't I done anything for you and your career? Haven't I proven over and over again that you are the most important thing to me in the whole wide world? I gave you everything that you wanted.«

 _The most important thing to you is you_ , he thought with a bitter smile creeping over his face. »Anyway« He muttered into his glass and waved his hand dismissively. »This will go away sooner or later. I’ll tell him that we practiced for a scene.«

»You cannot always fool the press, Altaїr!« She exclaimed. »How did Maria react to all of this? I am sure that she is mortified! It's one thing if you are running around to fuck other men in secrecy, Altaїr! But you cannot be so negligent now that she is involved too!«

»Look who’s talking.« He huffed. »Haven't you taught me that running around and fucking other men is the only thing that helps when trying to perceive a career in Hollywood? Stop be so condescending, Mother, you are the one who ruined countless marriages in the past, don't forget that and you did it for the whole world to see. Don't worry about what I am going to do. You were not of much help in the past when I was facing a problem anyway. I get them to believe me.« He always did.

※※※※※※※

His parents had called twenty times already this morning and as his phone started ringing for the twenty-first time, Malik simply turned it off. He could not deal with them right now. He could not deal with them screaming at him and demanding answers. Over an hour ago he had turned off his doorbell too. Just in case. It was his luck that no one really knew where to find him except for his friends and sadly his stupid brother. He had never even given anyone a key to his flat and yet, somehow, his nosy brother had one.

Even Kadar was quiet now as he sat on Malik's couch and stared at him as if he was a new species. It was unsettling, to say the least. Usually, Malik was always thankful when his brother decided to keep quiet, now, however, it was just unnerving.

»So?« Malik urged his brother as he sat down on his couch next to him.

It did not need much more to get Kadar to talk as he finally exploded as if he was nothing but a balloon and Malik had just poked him with a very pointy needle. »Malik, what the fuck dude? You kissed Altaїr! Holy Cow what are mom and dad are going to say to this? And Sana! Holy shit!«

Malik could not help but roll his eyes and take a small but deep breath before he replied and gave his best impression of a man who was at ease with himself and his own inner demons. »What do you think they are going to say?« To his luck, Malik was a very good actor. It was either that or his brother was just extremely gullible.

»Oh my god, Malik!« Kadar replied nonetheless quite agitated and looked as if he was about to jump up and pace around. »They will be so mad at you! Well, at least now you don't have to marry Sana, I guess.«

»And why is that?« Malik asked as he looked at his brother. He was not even able to determine if Kadar really was just relieved that his brother would not have to marry this woman or if he was thinking that his brother was ready to come out of the closet.

»Malik, come on, Dude. You cannot expect her to marry a gay guy when everyone knows it!«

A part of him was not even that surprised that Kadar knew the truth or that Kadar though he knew the truth. Malik had always been careful. He had never really told anyone, let alone his brother. A part of him had always been afraid how his little brother, who had always looked up to him, would react to that revelation. He had always known how his parents would react because they had flat out told him while growing up. »I’m not gay.« The words even came naturally to him.

»Oh god, Malik, come on! I am your _brother_! Do you still believe that you can hide your browser history from me? You can't even program your phone or set an alarm properly!« Well, at least that was true and for once, Malik did not know what to say to his brother. Apparently, Kadar was not as oblivious as he had always thought he was. »And you kissed Altaїr! Holy Cow, Malik! YOU KISSED ALTAЇR!«

At least for that, he did have a reply. »He kissed me.« He clarified with one raised eyebrow. »He was horribly drunk and pathetic and kissed me. Don't think too much of it, though. He even told me I should cherish my little brother and be thankful that I do have you in my life. So you see, he was out of his mind.«

»Yes, clearly.« Kadar sighed and if Malik would not know any better, Kadar might even sound a little bit hurt. »No matter who kissed who or if you're gay or not - What are you going to do now?«

»Well, I will have lunch with Sana in about an hour.« Malik lied. Of course, he had not yet called his fiancé in this horribly confusing situation. He could not even imagine what Sana was going through right now. Surely she had already seen the news and the photo. It was everywhere. There was no way to escape this picture. She was surely devastated by now. And her family … Well, Malik assumed that Sana's family had already contacted his parents in their anger. To them, it had to feel like he was humiliating their daughter.

»Malik!« Kadar exclaimed and restlessly threw his hands in the air as Malik rose from his spot on the sofa. He was quite dramatic, his little brother.

»What? «

»Isn't it my job to be the obnoxious little brother who does not want to answer a question properly?« For a moment, Malik even paused in his movement as he went to grab his phone.

»I don't think that you will find any legal document that forbids me to act like this too.« Malik replied dryly before he placed his phone back on the coffee table as if he had forgotten why he had picked it up in the first place. »And if you don't mind, I am in dire need of a shower before I meet my fiancé.«

※※※※※※※

»So, apparently, now our script writers have to find a way to squeeze in a kiss scene between Paris and Romeo, awesome.« Connor sighed as he threw the magazine to the side of the couch and brushed his large hands through his long mane, shortly curling his fingers into his scalp as if he was clinging to his remaining bit of sanity. He was clearly not made for all this drama that was attached to the life of an actor. Although his life was quite calm for the most part. »Really, can't anything go to plan with this production?« Already his father was getting on his nerves whenever he deemed it necessary.

»We are talking about a production with Altaїr in it.« Ezio snickered quietly as he came back to the living room with a small tray in his hands, loaded with coffee cups and cake. Sure he had his staff and thus someone to deliver him and his guests the coffee and cake, but Ezio was, gladly, not as snobby as one might think he was. Despite the riches he had grown up with and his quite snobbish family, Ezio was, for the most part, down to earth. Only his taste in furniture, decoration, and clothing was a little extravagant. »Altaїr was probably really _really_ drunk again and somehow he found Malik and kissed him. We all know how he is.«

»An idiot is what he is.« Connor agreed as he was staring at the white ceiling as he leaned back his head in an almost uncomfortable angle. Altaїr was not easy to work with, that much was certain. Then again, probably none of them were easy to work with.

»Do you think Shaun and Rebecca are able to fit this in?« Ezio then asked as he placed the cups of coffee on the table. Connor did not much care for the coffee, he cared more for the chocolate cake that Ezio put next to it.

»A dream sequence.« Maria suddenly chimed in. She had grown so silent in the last few minutes that Connor had almost forgotten about her presence in the chair close to the balcony doors. Now she rose from her spot and joined them again in the center of the room as she sat down gracefully on the sofa next to Connor. »Easy as that. Count Paris suddenly does not know any longer if it's hate that he feels for Romeo and if his jealousy is aimed at Romeo because he has Juliet or because Juliet has _him_.«

»Isn't this a little ridiculous?« Ezio snorted as he sat down across the table and crossed his legs.

»We are talking about Altaїr.« Maria sighed. »Of course it is.«

Suddenly they grew silent again and Connor was almost a little too aware of the scraping of his little fork on the porcelain of the plate as he tried to eat his cake like an adult instead of just slamming his face into the chocolate. He was sure that he and Ezio were thinking the same thing, but Connor would not dare to confront Maria about it. It was not his place to do so. The silence did not last very long as Ezio started slurping his coffee as obnoxiously as he possibly could. »And you are not even a tiny bit concerned« Ezio then turned to Maria again with a little smile playing softly on his face. He had always been a charmer and he knew how to ask uncomfortable questions without big repercussions. Maria Thorpe, however, was a different kind of thing. »that Altaїr might not have kissed Malik _just_ because he was drunk?«

»What do you mean?« Maria replied and though it was clear that she was trying to suppress the urge to snap at Ezio, her voice was a tiny bit sharper than it usually was when she was talking about her boyfriend. It was sad to see a woman so deeply in love with someone and blind to the fact that this someone was not echoing this love in the same way, if at all. Maybe that was why Connor chose to stay single. He was too afraid, maybe. That was at least what Desmond would certainly tell him. Ezio, despite everything, seemed to have a better understanding of those things and generally let Connor alone when it came to this topic.

»Well, aren't you concerned that he might be gay?« Ezio finally clarified what he meant despite the fact that all of them had understood him in the first place.

Maria's eyes were throwing out sparks as she looked at Ezio again with her bright blue eyes. »Of course not!« She replied and now her anger was apparent. Shortly she glanced at Connor too. »Do you think that too?« Connor only shrugged his shoulders. »Why would he be gay? What even makes you think something like that? He is my boyfriend, after all!«

As Maria caught Ezio and Connor sharing a little glance, she suddenly rose from her spot next to Connor and put her hands on her hips. Maria was usually not that type of girl to throw a tantrum or storm out of a room in anger. She had quite the temper, but for the most part, Maria was quite confident and easy to be around. Now, however, she seemed agitated enough to do exactly that, as he threw one last angry look at both of them.

»Maybe you two should sweep in front your own door.« She hissed before she left the room and shortly thereafter the house. Silence once again crept into the room as Ezio looked after her and Connor, slowly, pulled Maria's untouched plate with her slice of cake closer.

※※※※※※※

His brother did not leave his apartment to have lunch with Sana. Kadar had known this right from the start, right as Malik had told him that he would. He knew all of this because it had been him writing Sana from Malik's phone and deleting the message afterward. Still, he was impressed that his big brother had dared to try to lie to him as if Kadar would not know every trick in the book.

Until now, Kadar had only ever seen Sana on photos and though he knew that Sana was a true beauty, he did not like the prospect of his brother marrying her. He caught himself almost resenting her in a way for these past weeks and months since he had known what his parents had intended for Malik. His brother, in his eyes, deserved better than her. His brother, in his eyes, deserved someone who loved him truly and not just because it was expected of her.

He had known from the start that Malik would sooner or later agree on marriage under the pressure of their parents, if only so that Kadar would be spared from their pressure and he was aware that this too was the reason why Malik would never dare to come out as gay towards anyone, not even to him. It saddened him a little that Malik did not even trust him enough to tell him as if Kadar had no eyes and ears and would never notice if he would never tell him.

Sometimes Kadar really found himself wondering what his brother might think about him. Did Malik really just saw the annoying little brother in him? Did Malik really just see a young man who was oblivious to the world around him and, more importantly, his own brother? He could not help but feel a little hurt thinking like this. Of course, he knew that Malik was gay. He had always known it, probably even longer than Malik himself. And he knew that Malik would rather live a lie than to have their parents start burdening his little brother in the same way they had done with him. Malik was the first born son, it was his duty to carry on the family name. It was Malik's duty and Kadar's privilege. He was allowed to if he wanted to but Malik had to. That was how their family worked. And Malik, being the idiot he was, would always choose to take the blow for his little brother. Somehow Malik still thought that he needed to protect his brother and apparently it was on Kadar now to prove him wrong.

He was wearing the biggest set of sunglasses that he possessed, his beloved Ray Bans as he sat down in the café near Hollywood Boulevard. He had chosen a spot outside because the sun was shining brightly and warm already. Maybe even because he wanted to be seen. His brother would have chosen a place inside, but Kadar rather chose Altaїr's approach for the most part. He was a star, wasn't he? Why should he hide then? Wasn't this the point of being a star? Being out in the limelight? Of course, Malik would see this very different. He would tell him to be humble, to be discreet.

Kadar, however, was not Malik. He was everything but discreet. He was Kadar Al-fucking-Sayf. He would run around screaming if he wanted to. He would run around naked if anyone dared him to. He would run around naked _and_ screaming. Not that he had not already done that.

He actually felt a little nervous as he was waiting on the side of the boulevard for his lunch date. Malik's lunch date, to be correct. Sure, when Malik would find out about this - which he would, sooner or later - he would get in big trouble for tricking Sana like this, but all of this would be worth it in the end, Kadar thought. It was time that his big brother would lead his own life and not be pressured by their parents anymore.

Despite his nervousness, Kadar was anything but shy and so he leaned back in his chair and made himself as big as he could so that Sana would see him. It did not seem to be necessary though as two fingers gently tapped his left shoulder from behind, which ultimately made him jolt in surprise and almost fall from the chair. Expecting to see a fan he turned around only to stare straight into the beautiful face of Sana Tazim.

There was a mischievous grin playing on her face as if she was aware how much she had startled her cousin just now. She did not even seem surprised to find him instead of his older brother. »Mr. Al-Sayf the younger.« Sana began and her voice was almost angelically sweet. »I wondered when I would see you again.«

»Again?« He asked confused because no matter how hard he tried to remember, he simply could not remember ever having met her before.

»Did you forget how you and your mother visited when we were four?« Sana smiled and for a second, Kadar was glad that he was wearing his sunglasses because he was sure that her smile would have otherwise blinded him. »You came to visit Istanbul back then during the summer. We even went to the beach near Kilyos together and you stepped on a crab and cried for hours.«

»Well, I killed the poor crab, what was I supposed to do?« Kadar huffed as a little, embarrassed smile was tugging on his lips as he took off his sunglasses to lay them down on the small table in front of him. He felt awkward as he rose from his chair to greet his cousin with a chaste and very quick hug before he hurried to pull the other chair out for her. She smiled, clearly amused by his behavior before she sat down in one flowing graceful move.

»You hardly graced the crab.« Sana mocked him as he slowly reclaimed his seat opposite of her. »You cried because your foot was bleeding.«

»Well, anyway« Kadar began with a small grin as if to quickly change the topic while fully acknowledging that, yes, he had been a crybaby. He still was. »You don't seem surprised to see me instead of my brother.«

»Of course not. I know how Malik writes and that he does not really like to write messages at all.« Sana chuckled. »Malik would have _called_ me to invite me for lunch. I knew it was you immediately. Plus, I believe that Malik has more pressing matters to attend to right now.«

»So, I take it that you've seen the photo.« Kadar carefully asked, testing the water.

»Everyone has. You can't believe the outrage of my family this morning. They immediately called your parents to get an explanation.« She did not look upset, to say the least. She waved her delicate hand with those wonderful long fingers in a dismissive gesture at him as she slightly rolled her big brown eyes.

»And what did _you_ do?«

Sana laughed and Kadar could not help but feel chills running down his spine as he was rewarded with this sound. »I told them that they should calm down because, surely, there was a reasonable explanation for that kiss.«

»And do you think there is?«

»Malik is an actor.« She replied with a smile and Kadar enjoyed how the words were rolling from her tongue. He liked to hear her thick Turkish accent. »Surely he kissed Altaїr because of the job. Well, it's either that or he is gay. Both of it would not be a reason to freak out anyway.« For once in his life, Kadar Al-Sayf was speechless as he stared at Sana, but she only chuckled. »What? Did you expect me to be furious about the possibility that my fiancé could be gay?«

Clearly, already Sana was the coolest girl he had ever met. »Well, yes, of course! I mean you want to marry him after all!«

»Oh, Kadar« She sighed. »I am very well aware that this marriage is a thing born out of responsibility and rationality. I am not a romantic, Kadar. I always knew that I would marry a man who I would maybe not even love or who would maybe not love me. Malik is my best outcome, really and we both profit from this wedding. He will have made the first step to fulfilling his parents’ expectations and I will be able to stay in this country to study. We already talked about it. Even if he is gay, maybe we will never find love in each other as most people do when they are getting married, but I believe in companionship and that we could have a very strong friendship instead and that's just as valuable to me.«

Strangely enough, Kadar's heart was skipping a beat. Somehow he had expected Sana to be head over heels in love with his big brother already. And why shouldn’t she? Why shouldn’t any woman? Malik was a great guy after all. And yet here she sat and she would accept his brother no matter what. Maybe he could live with knowing that his brother would marry someone like her. »So you are still going to marry him despite this scandal?«

»As for me, there is no scandal.« She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. »I trust that Malik will find a way to defuse this bomb if not for himself and his reputation than for me and to keep damage from my name. Your brother is a noble man-«

»I know.« He quickly interrupted her. Of course, he knew that. That was why he was here.

»And you, I take it, are quite worried about him.«

»He is my brother, after all.«

»But that's not all, Kadar. I know you since we were children even though we only met once.« She gently reminded him with another smile that almost made his heart stop. »You always wanted to be like Malik but you always had much more freedom than him. I guess, you don't want your brother to live a life that he would not have chosen for himself, do you?«

»Of course not. It's just not fair, you know? Nobody has ever really forced me into something. I always was free to choose my own path in life, but he never had this privilege. I just want him to be happy, you know? If he will be happy with you, it's fine, but I hate the thought that either one of you is forced into this marriage. This is not how the world should function.« Maybe a tiny part of him was even already jealous. Malik would be able to marry a woman like Sana who was stunningly gorgeous, intelligent and even empathetic and practical. And he? Well, sure, he had had girlfriends in the past but they all had been quite superficial and he had quickly become bored of them. Maybe he would never have the same luck as Malik.

»You really are an all-American boy, aren't you?« She snickered.

»Well, I do value freedom.« Kadar replied with a grin. »And I do value choice in every sense. I think everyone should be free to follow their own path, you know? And I believe that no one has the right to judge someone else for the path they choose. If there is a god, I think he appreciates that I will leave the judging to him.«

Sana grew silent for a moment and looked as if she was thinking about his words. Kadar could feel how his heart was beating a lot faster all of the sudden. He blamed the fact that hardly anyone really considered or thought about the things he was saying usually. To his friends and family, he always was the clown. Sana however really seemed to take him seriously. Again a small smile spread out on her face, but she did not say anything but instead grabbed the menu that was lying on the table to have a look inside. Only after the waitress had come to get their order and left again, Sana looked at him.

»So, since your brother is busy, why don't you show me the City of Angels then?«

※※※※※※※

Nobody really knew where Altaїr was living. Only a handful of people really did know and Malik, most certainly, was not one of those people. He knew though that Altaїr liked ice-skating and that he was going to the ice skating rink quite often for practice, sometimes even with Malik's younger brother even though Kadar was a total failure on frozen water – or water in general. Kadar had once told him where he and Altaїr would go to when the older actor felt the desire to have a companion with him which not often seemed to be the case, really. Thinking about it, it surprised him that Altaїr was one of those people who really liked solitude from time to time, but then again, it made him a little more endearing. If anyone Malik knew how valuable being alone could be from time to time.

He had done his best to wander the city undetected and as he stood in front of the ice rink now, he felt unsure for the first time if he really wanted to go inside. He had never been a big fan of confronting Altaїr about anything, but this time it felt different.

Maybe it was because of that kiss that they had shared. They had kissed before, but back then it had been part of their job and nothing more. This time it had not been like this and it had not felt like this. Altaїr had kissed him in his drunken stupor but Malik was not yet ready to see it as an act of drunken stupidity. There was something different going on with this man.

So, Malik straightened his back and braced himself for the confrontation as he finally walked up to the doors leading inside. As he opened the door and walked inside of the building he was greeted by two friendly faces behind the front desk staring at him in awe. It did not take long for him to find Altaїr after that. Needless to say that Malik did not even feel sorry in the slightest that he had lied to his baby brother about meeting his fiancé.

Malik could not deal with his family at the moment. He could not deal with all the yelling and screaming. His mother had left messages in his inbox but Malik refused to listen to them. Usually, he would have already done everything in his power to change the situation and find a solution. However, as of now, he felt like being selfish for once. It was not his fault that Altaїr had kissed him and it was not his fault that someone had taken a photo of it and sold it. Of course, a part of him had immediately suspected that Altaїr might have staged all of this to get him into an uncomfortable position to ruin his career once and for all. But then he had remembered how Altaїr had talked last night and he could not believe that all of the things Altaїr had done and said last night had been lies. The thought that Altaїr, for once, had been honest, was maybe even a little more frightening to Malik.

After he had signed a few autographs for the employees, the two young ladies had gladly let him go into the ice rink to talk to Altaїr. Apparently, the young actor was paying them on a regular basis to have him use the ice in solitude whenever he liked to. It was weird that he would spend his money on something like that. However, as Malik stepped through the doors and into the cold air of the ice rink, he understood why he did so.

For a long moment, Malik found himself entranced by the image that was put in front of him. It was true that he did not know much about Altaїr. They had gotten along quite well as they had been younger and working together for the first time. Altaїr had been just a kid that was looking up at him despite the already promising career that he had had. Malik had no clue when or why this had changed. The Altaїr he saw now, however, was not that kid and yet more similar to the young Altaїr than he had seen him in a long time. He would have never thought that Altaїr possessed talent other than acting. The only thing he really knew about him was that Altaїr could not swim. But who would have thought that he was so good on the ice?

As Altaїr skated almost gracefully across the ice, he did not seem to have noticed Malik. Only as he went for a small jump, suddenly their eyes met. Altaїr was only in the air for a few seconds, mere inches over the ice, his technique almost flawless even for someone who had no idea of figure skating, but as Altaїr's amber eyes fell upon Malik, it seemed that every bit of focus suddenly vanished from his mind. The skids of his skates made contact with the ice again but instead of landing gracefully, Altaїr slammed down face first into the ice.


	9. Chapter 9

Malik Al-Sayf was not a man who often laughed in his daily life. He was not by any means someone who had no sense of humor or enjoyed comedy, but in his day to day life he rarely found something to whole heartedly laugh about. As Altaїr Ibn-La'Ahad's face kissed the ice, however, he could not help but erupt into laughter. Maybe it was not the nicest thing to do. Maybe it was expected of him to run over and help the idiot to get back to his feet. Maybe this would be the adult thing to do. And yet, Malik just stood there and laughed until his stomach hurt.

The moment in which Altaїr had slammed face first into the ice, the look on his face as he had seen Malik and lost all control over his oh so very graceful body, had been priceless and for just a moment Malik was honestly sad that he was not carrying a camera around as his brother always did to capture this historic and beautiful moment.

As Malik wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes, Altaїr rose from the ground and clutched the wall that surrounded the skating rink. He looked disheveled, to say the least and blood was already streaming out of his nose from the impact as his face had collided with the ground. »How is it that your nose is always bleeding when I meet you out in public?« Malik mocked as he slowly walked closer, clutching his ribs as they were hurting quite badly now. Even his body had not been prepared for this immense amount of laughter that was so uncharacteristic for him anyway. Maybe this was a sign that something in his life was not right, for Malik was pretty sure that normal people laughed a lot more often and a lot harder than he just did every day.

»Maybe it has something to do with you.«Altaїr frowned and wiped the blood from under his nose with the back of his right hand. He sounded a little more nasal, but at least it did not seem that he had broken something. They would not be able to delay filming yet again because of injuries. Already the show was failing and if they wanted to change that, they needed to finish the second season as fast as possible. These days, fans of TV-Shows were very demanding and did not have a lot of patience. And the competition was big. It seemed that every week another blockbuster TV-Show was thrown out just like that by some major company. How should a show with a budget as theirs compete with those cinematic masterpieces? The only ace in the hole they still had were the actors that had rallied around this project and them, he himself and all the others, now had to be careful that their careers would not suffer from the blow of this failure. But for that, they all had to work together and make the show a great success again.

»Maybe.« Malik admitted as he stopped right in front of Altaїr. The only separation between them now was the wall of the ice rink and yet, after their shared kiss, even that did not seem to be that much of a separator. He could smell him, he could hear him, he could see every little detail of his face, even the specks of a darker brown that were mixed into the light, almost honey color, of his eyes. He was not so perfect after all.

Malik himself had never been a touchy guy. He liked a little bit of distance, emotionally as well as physically. Altaїr was the sole opposite as it seemed. Altaїr always seemed to search for closeness, for touch, for conversation, for just being close. Now, however, he seemed a little more guarded than usual as he crossed his arms and ignored the blood and the pain that surely was shooting through his nose whenever he would speak. »Why are you even here? How do you even know that I am here?«

He could have lied, of course. He could have told Altaїr that this meeting of them was a pure coincidence that he had wanted to go ice skating and just happened to stumble upon Altaїr's favorite place to do so in solitude. But what would be the point of a lie like this? »Kadar told me.« Malik simply said and Altaїr, instead of saying anything, just rolled his eyes. That was the normal reaction that anyone would portray when hearing that Kadar Al-Sayf had blurted out one’s secret hiding place. He remembered how Kadar had done the same thing when they had been kids. Malik had this spot in the woods, an abandoned raised blind, where he would go when he was angry or just wanted to be alone. Of course his brother had learned about this place and of course, he had told their parents after they had asked him. »I'm here because I want to talk to you.«

»I assume it's about the kiss.« His reply was almost a little too nonchalant for Malik's liking.

»It's more about the chaos in the media because of it.« He scoffed to give the impression of a man who did not give two flying shits about this kiss of theirs.»You are aware that Bellec is furious, right? Now our writers will have to include this somehow in the show. You owe them big time.« Especially Shaun, Malik would think. Shaun Hastings was, even under normal circumstances, one of the most cranky and bitchy people that Malik had ever had the good fortune of knowing. His co-writer, Rebecca Crane, on the other hand, was a lot more relaxed and probably even a bit too happy for his liking that she would be able to implement a kiss scene between their characters. She was one of those weird women who spent their free time on _Tumblr_ , making googly eyes at straight men and trying to force them together by any means necessary to see their _OTP_ in action.

»Well, I had to say something, hadn't I?« Altaїr sighed and waved at him dismissively – and of course, he was right. Had he said nothing at all to the press, they would have used his silence against him all the more. Now, at least, they had something to work with. »This was the easiest explanation and so I chose it. I could have told them the truth, of course, but I thought that this might not be in your best interest.«

Malik could not help but cross his arms as if to protect himself from Altaїr’s words and his hidden accusations and hints. He even lifted his chin, as he now stared down at Altaїr and watched him take hold of the railing with both his hands. »And why is that? What is the truth in your eyes?«

»That I kissed you because I _wanted_ to. That you kissed me back because you _wanted_ to.«

Malik had not expected to ever see or set foot into Altaїr's lair. Yet he had followed him home without hesitation and was stunned to see that Altaїr was not living in a penthouse or expensive loft but instead in a simple, although quite spacious apartment in the arts district of downtown L.A. The hall outside of his flat was chaotic, to say the least, but Altaїr did not seem to mind as he led Malik inside his own flat. From outside there was not even the smallest hint of the fact that a Hollywood Star was living behind that inconspicuous door and Malik could not help but wonder if Altaїr’s neighbors knew at all with whom they shared the same roof above their heads.

A small narrow corridor stored Altaїr's messily strewn shoes, an agglomeration of all kinds of boots and sneakers – all the same, and yet all different in some way or another - right in front of the door and to the right-hand side, Malik found another narrow door that probably held the bathroom judging by the tiles he could see through the slightly opened door. As he turned left, he instantly grew aware that Altaїr obviously had no clue how to decorate and what to do with a place like this. The flat was not too big, but yet big enough to have a lot of space. Walking into the living area, they had to pass the open kitchen. Malik supposed that the kitchen had once been a room for itself, but most walls that had once secluded the kitchen from the rest of the flat had been torn away by someone.

The living area only seemed bigger as it already was because of the scarce mismatched furniture. Not one single object seemed to match another. The flat itself was not untidy or chaotic strictly speaking, it was actually quite orderly and clean, and yet the ridiculous amount of pot plants and poofs that were strewn across the living area gave the impression of chaos. There was not one style Altaїr had chosen for his apartment but all the styles combined as it seemed, unable to find something that matched and looked good. It was a clusterfuck of mismatched colors and materials. Industrial bar stools at a vintage breakfast bar. Moroccan designed pillows and poofs next to a modern couch, large windows, and a dining table made out of steel and glass that had been banished to a corner, with wicker chairs, a large blue carpet that did not fit the rest of the colors entirely and books on every surface. Somehow this mismatched flat seemed to match Altaїr perfectly. If this was how it was in his head, then at least Malik now had a better understanding of this chaos.

Altaїr's eyes were haunting as Malik turned his attention back to him. Somehow his eyes always reminded Malik of those of a cat. It was impossible to tell what was going on inside of his head. It was impossible to tell what emotions he might feel. It was odd, but maybe Malik could see the blank stare of Altaїr for what it was now that he had had a glimpse of the real Altaїr. Maybe he should not interpret too much into this kiss either.

»I am not used to living in one place for too long.«Altaїr's voice suddenly tried to grab his attention and Malik was tempted to think that this was some kind of apology for the state his apartment was in - as if he thought he needed to apologize for its state. Instead of thinking of a reply though, Malik rather raised his left eyebrow at Altaїr at this comment.

»I always thought you were living in some kind of penthouse or mansion. Rich enough are you, I suppose.« He scoffed but proceeded to walk towards Altaїr's comfortable looking couch to sit down without waiting for an invitation as it would be the custom to do. Altaїr did not seem to mind.

»Money is not everything, you know? Besides, why aren't _you_ living in a mansion or penthouse? It's not like you would be poor either, right?« He said as he shoved his hands into the large pockets of his baggy jeans as if he did not know what to do with them now that Malik had entered his refuge. Malik had the creeping feeling that Altaїr did not often welcome visitors.

»Touché.« Malik replied and Altaїr even managed to draw a low chuckle from him like this. He was not half as stupid as he sometimes made everyone believe he was. It was nice to see that for a change.

»So« Altaїr began and Malik got the feeling that maybe their pleasant conversation would now turn more serious if any of them would misstep as they were tiptoeing around one another. Because that was exactly what they were doing, wasn’t it? »What brought you to the ice skating rink to uncover my dirty little secret?«

It wouldn’t be wise to just blurt out what he wanted to ask and Malik was much too old to be so foolish anyway. »Although I am aware that you were shitfaced drunk that night, I wondered why you kissed me and wanted to ask that myself, even though you already said why you did it. I cannot believe that this is the only reason.«

Altaїr smirked and was quick to repay Malik's honesty in a more brutal way. »Why did you return the kiss?« Of course, Altaїr would not just give him an honest answer just like this. Of course, he wanted to play around. And yet, in answering him the way he did, Malik wondered if he had given him the answer he may have wanted to hear. For a single moment that stretched for what felt like minutes, Altaїr held his stare and again Malik could not shake off the feeling that Altaїr's eyes were haunting him. However, the spell broke, as Altaїr grinned again and turned his attention away from Malik. »Care for a drink?« Altaїr hummed and was already walking towards his kitchen. Malik could only guess that he was not referring to water.

»You know that I do not drink.« Not to mention that it was much too early to drink anyway, or at least it was in Malik's book. Altaїr did not seem to really care as he entered his kitchen and started roaming around the various cupboards, giving Malik a good look of his backside as he stretched – almost purposefully – to reach the top shelf in one of the cupboards so that his shirt slightly lifted and revealed his bare back.

»And why is that?« Altaїr chimed searching for whatever he was looking for before he finally found it and grabbed a bottle out of the cupboard. Scotch, as far as Malik could tell from the distance.

»You very well know why. Unlike you, I take my religion seriously.«

Altaїr almost made a show out of it as he turned around with his bottle and a thick walled glass in his left hand, setting the glass on the breakfast bar so he could stare at Malik while he poured himself a drink. Just plain scotch without ice. Well, Malik would have bet everything he owned that Altaїr preferred sweet drinks or at least ice in his drinks. »And yet you are gay.« Altaїr suddenly replied his eyes fixated on the glass in front of him.»Besides, I am not a Muslim, my father was.My mother is Christian – Well, part time at least, mainly she is a mean bitch by profession – And I, frankly, do not follow any religion. _Nothing is true, everything is permitted_ , that is the creed I am living by. No regrets, no oppression from some invisible, omnipotent being that just as well could be made out of a crap load spaghetti.«

»I am not gay.« Malik was quick to respond and yet it felt like a dull phrase that his younger self had kept telling itself desperately wanting it to be true despite all the evidence that spoke against it.

»Yes, you are« Altaїr sighed and screwed the cap back onto the bottle before he grabbed the glass and made his way back to Malik, strolling leisurely like a cat, all long legs and muscles working elegantly. »We both know you are. You are gay, I am gay, what's the problem?«

Was he even aware how dangerous it could be for the both of them to talk about such things so openly? Almost Malik expected that Altaїr had bugged his own flat so he could later sell this revelation to the press, concerning Malik to destroy him and his career once and for all. The real question, however, was how far Altaїr would be willing to go for this. »Even if I was, I still fail to understand what you are hoping to achieve.« Altaїr did not reply immediately, first, he took a long sip of his drink, gulping the burning liquid down almost as if it was water. »You are drinking too much.« Malik added, but he was careful not to sound in any way concerned.

Instead of responding, Altaїr took another swig and waved his right hand dismissively at him. »Yes, well, maybe I am.« He then chuckled lightly and wandered closer. »Got that from my mother, I suppose.« Whenever he was drinking, his British accent became a little stronger than usually when he was not taking care to sound as American as possible. Before Malik could say anything else, however, Altaїr was suddenly right in front of him and then, in an instant, he climbed on his lap as if it meant nothing, straddling his hips with both his knees to either side, his face leaning in way too close for comfort. »Anyway, here's the thing«

Malik did not even try to get the other man off his lap. Not that he did not want to shove him right off his fucking lap, but knowing Altaїr, he was painfully aware of how futile this would be to even try and get him off of him.

»I want you to fuck me.«

※※※※※※※

Kadar really was not the type to get overly concerned about… Well, almost anything. Even if he would not see his big brother in days, he would not even consider calling the cops or finding out where he was – he had his phone bugged anyway so he could always easily find out where his brother was, just in case he would accidently get lost. Kadar really liked these stalker apps for overly worried mothers quite a bit. Anyway, it was something entirely different when he had news to tell his brother and Malik refused to come back home even after midnight while he was waiting. Of course, he had sent messaged to his brother, demanding him to come home immediately, threatening him with raiding his fridge (which he would have ultimately done anyway). A part of him started to suspect that Malik had finally figured out how to mute him.

No matter why he wasn’t here yet, Kadar was livid. How dare his brother to not come home already so Kadar would be able to tell him what he had done all day! It was half-past one in the morning as he heard the rustling of keys outside of Malik's door and a moment later, he heard a key being jammed into the lock not so very gently. »About time you get your swampy ass back here, young man.«

※※※※※※※

The only lamp that was switched on inside the apartment was the one right next to Kadar and the sofa he perched on like a little angry owl and yet, Malik was not even surprised to find his little brother waiting for him this very night. Honestly, he would not be surprised if he would find a dinosaur in his home tonight either. Though he was not surprised, he was a little more annoyed than usually – mainly because he was quite exhausted and tired and because his back hurt and stung. He had not expected to be scratched.

With a heavy sigh, Malik dropped his keys into the bowl he had waiting next to his door for them before he calmly walked over into the living room, the light of the lamp next to the sofa guiding him like a beacon of hope – or, more fittingly, hellfire. »So what are you doing in my apartment again? Is there any food left for me, or do I have to go shopping tomorrow?«

Knowing his brother for quite some time already, he was aware that Kadar tended to eat a lot when bored and bored he had been undoubtedly judging by the evidence in form of chocolate wrappers all around him. Kadar's blue eyes shot up at him as he entered the living room and slowly sat down on the other end of his sofa, trying to brace himself for what was about to come and ignoring the mess that his brother had made. »So where have you been all night? I am waiting for you since nine!«

»I was out« Malik replied with a frown on his face and both eyebrows raised.

»You were at Altaїr's place!« It suddenly just burst out of Kadar as if he exploded like an angry little bomb. »And don’t even try to deny it! I know you were!"

»So you _do_ track my phone, I wondered already if Connor was just shitting me.« Malik replied and tried to sound as unfazed an unsurprised as possible because, really, it was Kadar. Of course his baby brother would install something on his phone to track him down like the little fucking stalker he was. He should be angry, of course, and he was very well aware that that was what he was supposed to be and yet, he had grown numb to Kadar's shenanigans in all these years.

»Of course I do!« And he was not even ashamed admitting it in the slightest. Suddenly Malik remembered all those times in his youth when his brother would have followed him and his friends around without taking no for an answer. Well, wasn’t that just wonderful? »So what did you do at Altaїr's place the whole day? Why didn’t you spend time with Sana today? She does not deserve to be put aside like that, Mal!«

»So, I take it that _you_ took care of Sana for me today, right?« It did not take much to look straight through Kadar's act. He knew his brother for much too long to not be able to see through his bullshit and knew when there was something deeper going on in his stupid little brain. Almost he could sense what this deeper reason for Kadar's outrage was even, although he did not try to formulate it. Though, he wondered, why Kadar had wanted to meet Sana. He was aware that Kadar had not at all been happy to hear that his brother was going to get married to a perfect stranger, so why in the heavens had he wanted to meet that stranger then? Had he wanted to scare her off?

»Well, _someone_ had to! She came here for you, after all! She did not come here to spend her days with all those strangers from her family hearing the women talking down on her condescendingly! She came to get to know you before the wedding! And yet you rather spend time with your _arch nemesis_ to do _what_ , Malik?« It was not often that Kadar would get angry like this and yet, it was not real anger, was it?

He could, of course, answer his baby brother and tell him exactly what he and Altaїr had done at his place, but he was not entirely proud of how his visit had turned out. He would have liked to say that he had been the stronger person, the bigger person, that he had shoved Altaїr away and walked off instead of joining him in this twisted little game of theirs. Yet he hadn’t. Even though the logical part of his brain had yelled at him to get out of this flat, his inner beast had been all too glad to take over immediately at Altaїr's words and the way he had talked to him. And yet he was aware that the aggressive tone Altaїr had used, his choice of language during sex, had not been the real Altaїr but only a sloppily crafted façade, another character he was playing day in and day out. His usual victims were probably not able to tell, but Malik knew him long enough to sense when he was not being himself but playing a role. How weird it was, that he and Altaїr got to that point.

He felt like he knew this man and at the same instant, he was very aware that he, just like most others, had not the faintest idea of who Altaїr really was. »I wanted to know from him why he kissed me when he was drunk the other night and how he thought we should go on from this. I mean, it's all over the news, we should think of a proper statement together so that we get our story straightened out.«

»Don’t bullshit me, Malik« Kadar growled and punched his right arm. »You fucked him. I know you did because you are such a terrible liar that it is almost absurd what a good actor you usually are.« Kadar's little punches had never been strong or violent, this one, however, was a lot harder than they used to be and that, sadly, only strengthened Malik's belief that he knew what was going on in Kadar's mind. Sana was not the problem, apparently.

»I didn’t know that you feel so strongly about Altaїr.« Malik said as he looked at his brother’s face again. He would not even deny Kadar's claim that he had slept with Altaїr because why should he anyway? He did not believe that his brother would run off with this information to sell it immediately. No, he was sincerely angry because of what Malik had done today and although his eyes widened in confusion, Malik immediately continued. »I wouldn’t have done such a thing if I would have known.«

Suddenly it seemed he had taken his brother by surprise as Kadar blinked and looked at him as if he had lost his mind. »What do you even mean?« Kadar replied, his voice suddenly sounding very dry and on the verge of making a bitchy comment, although this was usually Malik's job. Somehow he felt a little uneasy saying what he really thought and wanted to say, even though he hardly felt like this, especially towards his brother.

»Well, it's obvious that you like Altaїr. I just wasn’t aware that you would like him like that.«

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Malik knew that he had said something wrong although it took Kadar a moment to realize what he meant. »Wait. What?«

※※※※※※※

Maybe he should not have done it, Altaїr wondered as he took a sip from his scotch. His bedsheets were still rustled and his bed all in all a total mess. He did not quite know how much time had passed since Malik had left his flat. He had done nothing to stop him from leaving, of course. He did not regret what he had done – not exactly that was. It was what he had wanted for such a long time that he honestly could not bring himself to even consider something like regret. He had desired Malik for years, he had wanted him in his bed for years, but now that he had gotten what he had wanted, he did not feel any different.

A part of him had thought that, as soon as he would have gotten to that point, his desire would stop and he could go back to his normal ways and yet, he did not feel as though his life would ever be different and on the same instant, he could not hope to get anything more out of this experience with Malik. He had told him that. He had said to him that this would be a one-time thing and that they would then go their different paths again like they had before. He had closed the door towards an opportunity of something more, something else before it could have even fully opened.

Then again, what kind of opportunity could there have been anyway? Malik was going to get married soon and he … Well, if he would be a smart man, he would marry Maria Thorpe and act happy and faithful. He was a good actor. He was a good liar. His mother had told him all about it. However, lately, lying became increasingly harder and harder with each and every little lie he told the people around him or himself.

It seemed that lying was his only talent. »You should have never trusted Hollywood…« He found himself humming. »You should have never gone to Hollywood…« With that, he forced himself to rise from his bed and made his way back to his kitchen. His glass was empty again, but he had a full bottle waiting for him still on his counter.

»Maybe I am drinking too much.« He smirked as he grabbed the bottle from his counter. After a moment of hesitation, he put his empty glass in the sink, uncapped the bottle and took a sip straight from it. And why shouldn’t he? What was the point of being sober anyway? His mother was never sober – not that he could remember a day in his life when he had seen her sober. Apparently, his mother had been a bad example for him in all his life, but, he guessed, she had a point in drinking away her life and youth. When he was sober his brain would confront him with all the things he did not like being confronted about. So, in conclusion, why should he be sober then?

His feet carried him slowly through his flat. He didn’t much care for his own nudity, after all, he was alone anyway, wasn’t he? It seemed he was always alone in these rooms. It was his own fault, of course. He didn’t need to be alone. There were people he could go to, right? He could visit Desmond and spent the night at the bar, he could ambush Connor in his home and play with his dogs, he could pay Maria a visit which was probably overdue after the latest scandal, he could go to Kadar to play video games all night, he could even visit Ezio and take advantage of his giant ass house, sitting in his Jacuzzi all night. And then there was always his mother, he guessed. He had friends. It was not like he needed to be alone. He had people who liked him, right?

And yet he paused at his large window behind his sofa and found himself staring outside and into the night hovering over Los Angeles, his own reflection only a hollow ghost hovering above the town. _The City of Angels_ and yet sometimes he only saw demons roaming the streets. Greedy, fame hungry little demons, driven only by their own desires of lust, greed, and gluttony.Everyone just looked out for themselves in these streets. There was no compassion, no real love, nothing that felt true or honest. And that was the same thing with his _friends_ too. They – their friendship, did just not feel right, as if nonexistent, just smoke and mirrors. Nothing but illusions.

Maybe that was the alcohol talking. Then again, the alcohol usually was right.

However, as his bottle was half empty already, he felt that this time the scotch did not properly manage to cleanse his mind as it usually would. He found himself slowly wandering back towards his bedroom, not motivated enough to put on clothes or leave his home. He paused on his way to his bedroom at the door to his closet. Once it had been a guest bathroom, but as he had moved in he had removed the toilet and lavatory and turned it into a storage closet instead. It was really nothing special, just a small room filled with trash. He searched for the light switch and switched on the light.

There was a small mountain of boxes right in front of him, filled to the brim with unopened letters and little presents, stuffed animals, and boxes of chocolate. _Fan mail_ which he had never opened but collected for years. It wasn’t that he did not care for his fans, but, well, he did not care for their presents or letters. Maybe he would feel differently about it, would he be in it with all his heart and passion, but since he was not, he really did not care that much about hearing from strangers how much they loved his acting.

It was not as if he had a choice _not_ to act, after all. It had been hammered into him since his earliest years if not by threats than by a wooden spoon whenever he had complained and acted up. He was not talented at all, not like Malik. It was second nature to him after being raised by his mother and her drill seemed to make up for missing talent.

He stepped inside, awkwardly climbing over one or two boxes before he found what he was looking for. At the back of the room, at the wall, leaned a few framed pictures and Altaїr took them out without hesitation to have a look at them. They were movie posters, some of them signed even, all of them carefully preserved in black picture frames and white passe-partouts. He collected all of them out of his closet and took them back to his bedroom to lay them onto the empty side of his bed just to have a look. Some of the posters were from movies his father had been in, but most of them were of Malik. He had them hung in his flat for years before he had decided to ban them from his sight. Now they were here again and just like before, they could not give him what he really wanted. But maybe that was neither their nor anybody's fault for he simply did not know himself what he did want.

Not to think of the past, that was what he wanted and yet his mother's voice in his head was strong as ever, telling him to do absolutely everything that was necessary to get what he wanted without question. _You can hate yourself later when you are old_ , he remembered her scoffing. _You can feel ashamed and dirty when you have nothing left to lose._


	10. Chapter 10

_Romeo’s lips burned hot on his own as they were fighting for control in this impossible scenario they had found themselves in. Never in his life had he expected to come to this point. Never in his life had he expected how sweet the taste of the devil himself was and how easy it was to fall for him. Almost it felt impossible to tell where his own body ended and where that of his biggest rival began. They were just a tangle of limbs by now and there was no way to tell which leg belonged to his body and which belonged to Romeo. It was forbidden what they were doing but the knowledge of this sin they were tasting made it all the sweeter. Paris had always been a man fond of the most delicious things in life and yet, never before he had felt as if he would never get enough from something as sweet as this. Romeo Montague’s lips and his feverish kisses tasted sweeter and heavier than the best wine and were more dangerous than the sword dangling from the holster on his hips._

Acting out a kiss scene was something every actor had to do at some point in their career and the very same was true for sex scenes of which every actor could only ever hope that they would be shot with as much dignity and grace as possible while they were humping away naked in front of a camera with as much protection as a sock on their private parts. No one ever felt comfortable being naked in front of a camera. No one ever felt comfortable kissing another actor, in some cases a friend, in front of a camera. This time, maybe he had felt a little too comfortable kissing Malik. He could feel it in the way Maria's eyes were drilling holes into him as she was lying next to him on her bed. It was too soft and too big. He tried not to notice her stare as he sat with his back resting against the headboard of her bed, her silken bedsheets pooling around his hips. He tried not to think about what she would say next and he tried not to look at her, to no avail.

»You seemed to enjoy this kiss quite a bit.« He should have known that she would say something like that and yet he could not suppress the slight groan that escaped his dry lips before he reached for his almost empty glass that was sitting on the bedside table to his left-hand side. But as he did not answer, Maria had no shame to continue. »Well, I'm just saying that you are usually not as passionate when you are acting in a kiss scene. And it's not just me who noticed, you know? Evie asked me about it. Jacob too.« Of course, the Frye twins of all people would notice something like this, a pair of twins who were unable to see what was right in front of them most of the time. Jacob was blind to the cute little love affair his sister had with their manager, a man going by the name of Henry Green and yet he wanted to have noticed Altaїr's passion during that kiss scene. Of course, he was not wrong, still, it amazed Altaїr that he had picked up on this.

After he took his last sip from his glass he finally found the energy to look at Maria again. She was lying on her side, her naked form barely covered by her silken sheets in a way that was as suggestive as it was elegant, which made him question if she was putting on a show for him. The way she lay on her side, her chin resting on her left hand after she had propped herself up on her sharp little elbow was exactly how a Hollywood diva in a movie would lay in her bed, but no real human being. She was playing a role, he could see it and he did not like it. He had liked her better when she had been herself and not lowered herself to this cartoon of herself.

»I'm just saying … we are together now, you and I.« She helpfully continued and slowly blinked her big blue eyes so that he would undoubtedly notice her long, dark, curled lashes. She was always wearing make-up, even in bed and tried her best to make it look like she didn’t. Altaїr could see it, though. He was able to make out the tiny crumbs of dried mascara that had fallen from her lashes and landed right under her eye.

»I am aware.« It was not his intention to sound cold or uninterested in her _or_ the conversation and yet he could not help that his voice sounded a lot drier than he had intended it to.

»Well, people talk, Altaїr.« She sighed as she pulled her sheet higher around her chest (as if he had not already seen her naked more than enough times, more than he would have liked, actually) and sat up in the very gesture of an affronted woman despite the fact that she tried not to look like one. »Please try to think about me a little more when you do something like this - about my situation.«

»Aren't you thinking enough about yourself for the both of us already?« The words just slipped him and the change in Maria's expression, from a feigned calmness to anger, was so rapid that he almost regretted it. »It's _work_ , Maria.« He hissed before she could even open her mouth in a sorry attempt of saving his own dignity. »It's not my fault if my acting is believable or that you are not used to seeing believable acting.« Apparently, she did understand the not so very hidden attack on her own acting skills as she snapped at him and looked as if she was about to hit him with everything she got. Now, as he looked at her, with her long dark hair hanging loosely and ruffled around her face, she resembled his mother even more. The anger in her blue eyes, her blotched cheeks, and the very clear affront she took from his words. He felt his stomach turn at the thought.

Only as he threw off his blanket and climbed out of her bed she sprung back into action. »Where are you going?« She demanded to know as if she had any right to know. As if anyone had any right to know. He should be used to this demanding tone that was always thrown at him by now - and he was, but he refused to be used to it any longer. He was not a child anymore and he was tired of being controlled or having demands thrown at him all the time. He was tired of explaining why he was acting the way he did. He was tired of his so called _friends_ demanding to either know why he was drinking so much or telling him to stop. Sometimes he was amazed by the confidence with which the people around him demanded things of him. What were they even thinking? Where did they get the right to demand anything from him from?

»Home. I have a hamster to feed.« It had not exactly been his plan to leave Maria's apartment as he did after he had jumped into his pants and thrown over his shirt, and yet, in a matter of seconds, he found himself out in the streets in front of her apartment building only to immediately dash into a side alley. His stomach was convulsing and before he could even understand what was happening, he threw up in the first trash can he found, bending over it shamelessly as he threw his dinner in the trash while around him the city of angels was booming and buzzing with life. For how much longer would he be able to continue this charade with Maria?

Panting, he wiped his lips before he slowly slid down on the brick wall and sat heavily on the cold hard ground. At least it was dark enough already to conceal him in the shadows of that alley. He had slept with women before. He had never had a problem with it, though he preferred men. Every once in a while he had told himself that, maybe, he could get used to women, if only to please his mother and the media and the expectations that were put upon him. It was differently with Maria. She was gorgeous and she had always been a good friend to him despite the fact that she had been horribly in love with him from the start. But now, since they got together, he started to realize that she was just like his mother and every time he would look at her, it got harder and harder not to scream and yell at her.

It was not just her appearance, as he had told himself in the beginning to soothe his increasingly more tense nerves, it was her way of thinking, her demanding nature, her jealousy, her entire character. Of course, his mother would have liked her as a daughter in law. And yet, today, as he had slept with her, the only thing he could have thought about was Malik and how hot his hands had been on his skin, how good his touch had felt, how feverish his kisses had been, how sweet he had tasted.

He felt trapped and the worst part was that this was a trap he had gotten himself into. There was no escape.

※※※※※※※

He should have probably been surprised as his doorbell rung around two in the morning and thus ripped him from his anyway twitchy sleep. He should have probably been surprised to find Altaїr on the other side of his door. Sadly, he wasn't. He was surprised, however, to also find Desmond Miles in front of his door with Altaїr pretty much dangling from his left shoulder. Desmond had obviously been working until now, for he was still dressed in his neat bartender uniform which suited him so well. His face was the unmistakable mask of a young man desperate for help and fighting a losing battle against his current state of utmost annoyance.

»What in the heavens do you want here? Do you have any idea how late it is?« Malik addressed the two young men in front of him after he had opened the door fully only to usher them both inside hastily before any of his neighbors would notice the ruckus on the hallway. Altaїr, judging by the lack of response, was apparently shit-faced drunk. Truth was, Malik had already heard the impending doom before his doorbell rang after he had been shaken awake yet again by his own restlessness. He had heard loud footsteps and arguing moving down the hallway, but had not much thought of it anyway. Of course, he was much more eager to put the blame and those two standing in front of him instead of acknowledging that he had already been wide awake.

»He came to my bar« Desmond started explaining as he stepped inside and dragged Altaїr with him, his feet scraping uselessly over Malik's wooden floorboards. After Malik led him and Altaїr into his living room, Desmond all but threw Altaїr onto the couch, startling Malik's cat that just hissed at the intruders in annoyance and jumped off the couch in his affront. He would most certainly come back very soon to reclaim his spot where Altaїr now laid face down on the cushions. It was impossible to tell if he was at least awake.

»This does not explain why you are here now or why you decided it was a good idea to bring him to me, as it seemed you did.« Malik frowned as he crossed his arms and looked down on Altaїr who finally showed a hint of motion again, as he miserably tried to get comfortable but almost fell down from the sofa in the process, unable to untangle his own limbs, forever trapped.

»He got wasted pretty quickly and demanded that I would bring him here.« Desmond sighed, but before Malik could say something else, Desmond lifted his hands in surrender immediately. »I know, I know. I should not have brought him here anyway but rather to his or my flat, but he got really aggressive as I told him that it's not possible to get him to you this late at night. I need to get back anyway before my boss kicks me out because of the ruckus he made tonight and, to be honest, I didn't want to leave him alone like this. I haven't seen him that intoxicated in a long time.«

The words that wanted to escape him got stuck in his throat as he looked at Desmond who really looked concerned as he now glanced back at his friend on the sofa. It was not always easy to concern a man as calm as Desmond usually was. Out of all of them, Desmond probably knew Altaїr best, him and his escapades. »Did something happen?« He should say that this wouldn't concern him, that it was not his problem if Altaїr was drunk or needed help or why he was in the state he was in now. He should just throw them both out of his flat, and yet, the way Altaїr hung from his couch made him anxious and he could not even tell why that was.

»No, well, I don't know. He doesn't talk much about his problems.« Desmond huffed and gently kicked the leg that was dangling from the couch but only got a little grunt as a response. »I don't know what bothered him so much tonight. Please just keep an eye on him, okay? I come and get him first thing after my shift.«

»You are aware that I would like to find some sleep too tonight, aren't you? Just knock it off, he can stay tonight. I bring him home myself.« Malik finally sighed. He blamed the late hour and his lack of sleep but he just did not want to argue any longer now. He wanted to go back to sleep and try to act as if none of that had happened in the first place.

»How do you even know where he lives?« Desmond suddenly demanded to know with raised brows as if knowing where Altaїr lived was the biggest secret of mankind. »I mean … No one knows except me and his mom.« Of course, Malik had suspected something like that before, but to hear it now from Desmond was something entirely different. Altaїr was a showman. He liked to prance around, sign autographs, pose for selfies and show his stupid face on camera whenever he got the chance to. It was weird for someone that outgoing and public with nearly everything (judging by his Twitter) to live so secluded that only two (now three) people knew where he lived. Then again, Malik doubted that it was only him, Desmond and Altaїr's mother who knew his address. Maybe that was just what Altaїr liked to believe.

»He showed me. Long story, just go back to work, maybe I tell you someday.« Of course, Malik knew that he should not have agreed to that. He should have just told Desmond that he should take Altaїr back home and not bother him with that tremendous idiot. Yet he decided not to and just watched how Desmond left his apartment moments later, apologizing again and again for the discomfort he caused Malik.

At least his cat, Napoleon, seemed to deem Altaїr the most comfortable lounging spot as Malik went back into the living room, Napoleon perched on Altaїr's back like a hawk preying on a small mouse in the brush. »So what am I going to do now?« Malik sighed as he slowly slumped down on his armchair just to have a better look at the dead-like man on his couch.

Could he leave Altaїr on his own like this? Probably not. Giving his bad luck lately, Altaїr would probably throw up and suffocate on his own vomit if he would leave him here on his couch like this and then Malik would get the blame for Altaїr's untimely death and be framed as a murderer by neglect because he held a grudge against him – as was known by the people that surrounded both of them. He exchanged a look with Napoleon, but his cat was not much of a help as he only blinked slowly and yawned giving the very clear expression that he did not wish to have anything to do with this whole situation. Since his cat would not help him, Malik again rose with a sigh only to bridge the distance between him and the man on his sofa. He needed to bring Altaїr into his bed so that he would at least be able to keep an eye on him.

It turned out that it was much easier said than done to bring Altaїr into his bed. Altaїr was a lot heavier than Malik had anticipated, though he should have probably known that already. Maybe the circumstances were to blame for Altaїr's increase in weight or the sole fact that he was hanging from Malik's arms like a sack of potatoes. It took Malik a few minutes to bridge the distance between his living room and his bed where he was finally able to discharge his load unceremoniously with a small _thud_.

A faint grunting sound came from his pillow a moment later and Malik was almost sure that his unwanted guest would soon start drooling all over his pillowcase. Instead, a voice was added to the unintelligent grunt. »We could fuck«

So he was awake, apparently. Malik was not even surprised and his reply came almost alarmingly fast. »You are drunk.« His mind should not be able to react so fast in such a situation. Almost it felt as if he was already familiar with circumstances as this one.

»So what?« Altaїr yawned. »I was told that I give the best blowjobs when drunk.«

»At least your mouth would be of use then.« Malik shot back without thinking twice about it. »But I politely decline the offer anyway, thank you very much.«

»Good. I need to go and take care of my hamster anyway.« Suddenly there was movement on his bed as Altaїr tried to get up from his spot. He failed miserably and slumped down again helplessly as a newborn deer. It would have been cute, had it not been Altaїr.

»Why do you have a hamster anyway?« The question had been in his head, ever since he had first seen the huge cage in Altaїr's apartment which was much too large for just one hamster but all the more lovingly decorated and with a wooden sign telling everyone that this was _Al Capone's_ cage. Only someone like Altaїr would ever call a small brown hamster _Al Capone_.

»Therapy.« Altaїr replied and tried to shrug his shoulders but the movement looked strangely out of place.

»Therapy?«

»Therapy.«

»Please do feel free to explain, unless you want me to imagine that your hamster is acting as a therapy dog.«

»Do you think I would put my hamster on a leash?«

»I would most certainly not put it past you.« For a moment, Altaїr just looked at him affronted and right as if he wanted to defend himself, but then he seemed to have reached the conclusion that, yes, putting a hamster on a leash was something he would do indeed.

»Well, I thought I should start small, you know? Taking care of a small animal before starting a serious relationship.«

This at least sounded somewhat sensible, at least for Altaїr's standards. Looking back, Malik could not recall if Altaїr ever had a serious relationship before – or at least none that had found its way into the media, which was almost unheard of these days and especially with someone like Altaїr who practically always shouted his thought from the rooftops no matter how stupid they were. »How many hamsters did you already have?«

»Five. Al Capone I, Al Capone II, Al Capone III, Duane and now, Al Capone IV. It was easier to just call them by the same name, I didn’t want to make a new sign for each hamster, but I think I am not ready for something serious just yet.« At least they could agree on that, Malik briefly thought and yet he couldn’t help but find humor in this situation. Somehow imagining Altaїr taking care of a hamster was endearing even to Malik.

»What about your relationship with Maria?« And yet, despite how endearing Altaїr was with his hamster, Malik could not suppress the urge to ask about Maria.

»What about your relationship with Sana?« Well, touché, Malik thought but, of course, he would not say it, he would not give Altaїr the satisfaction of admitting that he was right because, sadly, he was right. They were doing the same exact thing, Malik guessed. Instead of facing his parents and telling them the truth about himself and stepping away from Sana and this arranged marriage that they were going to have if he wouldn’t do or say something, he rather kept quiet and played along. It was not so much that he was afraid of his parents' reaction because he knew exactly how they would react. He just did not know if breaking with his family was worth it. _Worth what?_ , he wondered. Worth his own emotional wellbeing? His happiness? And what about his career? Then again, his career was on a downward spiral anyway, wasn’t it?

»It's not right what you are doing to her.« Malik finally stated as he sat down on the edge of his own bed as if he was a stranger in his own apartment while Altaїr lounged comfortably behind him as if he owned the place.

»It's not right what you are doing to Sana either.« It wasn’t and Altaїr was yet again right. Oh, how much Malik hated him in this moment. Maybe his situation would be different and would not look just as grim, had Altaїr not ruined his career in the industry.

»It's easy for you to say that.« Malik sighed. »You have nothing to lose anyway, have you? You can do as you please, drink as you please, party as you please, fuck as you please and no one would ever dare judging Americas heartthrob number one, right?« Altaїr chuckled behind him and Malik was almost tempted to whirl around and punch him straight in the jaw. »See? You laugh. Of course, you do, you had it easy and despite your talent, you're ruining yourself, your body and your career with drinking too much and fooling around too carelessly. I will never get why former child stars become something like this and still get away with everything.«

»Luckily for you, you don't know what it's like to be a child star.«

This time it was he who decided to snort as he finally dragged his tired body further onto his bed, so he could at least rest his back against the headrest of his bed. Only shortly he glanced at Altaїr. He seemed oddly comfortable in Malik's bed – and in his presence in general. Altaїr lounged next to him like a cat, his eyes almost falling shut. »I talked to Connor about it, so I think I get the gist of it.«

»Yes, well, but Connor is a different thing, isn't he?« Malik had expected Altaїr to at least look at him if not even get angry. He did not seem to be an aggressive drunk as much as he was a tired drunk, but one could never be too careful when dealing with a drunken person – especially when this person was as shit-faced as Altaїr was now.

»Is he?« Malik hummed despite the fact that he did not know if he really wanted to discuss something like this with someone like Altaїr.

This time, there was a little more of a reaction, as Altaїr propped himself up on his elbow, still, he did not look at him. This was even for Altaїr in his current state odd. »Look« He began. »there is one thing you absolutely need when you are a child in Hollywood: parents who protect you as if you are the greatest treasure in the world. Connor had this. No matter what bad of a relationship he thinks he has with his father, or how adamant he is that his father is pressuring him too much in joining the company and leaving his acting career behind, his father has always been his fierce protector and everyone in Hollywood always knew not to fuck around with the Kenways.«

It was true, Malik admitted to himself and he hated how on point Altaїr's statement was. Connor was still incredibly young but already had a promising career ahead of him. He was still too young to see his father's true intentions whenever _the old wolf_ , as Connor called him, was bitching about Connor's decision of staying away from the Kenway Company. »And you didn't?«

Altaїr had always had a talent not to answer questions directly despite being a very straight forward person most of the time. »When you are a child in Hollywood, everyone wants a piece of you.« He said instead of answering the question – or was that his answer?

»And what about you and your mother?« Even to Malik, it was an enigma why he was continuing with this discussion. Did he really want to hear this? Well, then again, it was a more than welcome distraction from his own problems. Tomorrow he would meet up with Sana and his parents to discuss the wedding arrangements. His mother wanted the whole ordeal over as quickly as possible. Kadar had been fuming with anger as he had received the message. He was behaving even odder than usually lately. »Didn't she manage to protect you?«

»My mother« Altaїr drew in a deep breath only to release it very slowly again. »My mother's interests lie only in men, alcohol, drugs and money, but not so much in the protection of her only son. She would have been too drunk to do something anyway, I guess.«

Malik was quiet for a moment, thinking about Altaїr's words. Was he telling him that something _had_ happened to him during his childhood? Or was this simply Altaїr's general resentment against his mother taking form? Despite what mother and son were showing in front of the public eye, Malik, and most of their other shared friends knew that Altaїr absolutely despised his mother. To Malik, it was unimaginable to have that much resentment for a parent. He loved his mother dearly. His father, not so much, but he was far from resenting him. He had spent most of his life trying to make the old man proud, to no avail because Kadar had always been his chosen favorite and there was nothing Malik could have done to change that. So he had stopped trying somewhere along the way. Still, he respected his father. Altaїr, however, seemed to outright hate his mother.

As he looked at him again, he thought shortly about asking what had happened that made him so angry towards his mother, but Altaїr's eyes were closed now and Malik, with a sigh, dragged the covers over Altaїr's shoulders as he listened to the deep and steady breathing leaving his mouth. Maybe it was better this way.

Whatever there was between them ever since they had shared the bed, Malik did not feel ready to discuss family problems or dark pasts with someone like Altaїr Ibn-La'Ahad. And yet, the golden boy did not look as golden any longer to Malik.

For a moment, he continued to watch him in the dim light of the lamp on his bedside table and pondered about the possibility that he and Altaїr had a little more in common than he had thought until now. Then, however, he switched off the light, crawled back under his covers too and closed his eyes, hoping to finally find rest until the morning would come to rip him from his slumber.


	11. Chapter 11

»So what now?« Malik sighed, but Napoleon just stared back at him, judgingly, as Malik placed his cup of coffee back on the counter. »Yes, I know. I did it again.« Napoleon meowed but did not leave his spot next to the cup. »Well, what was I'm supposed to do? Have you seen him? If I'm going to get married soon, I might as well enjoy my freedom as long as I can.« Instead of answering him or telling him how dumb and ridiculous Malik's thoughts were, Napoleon scratched his ear with his paw and yawned, showing Malik exactly just how ridiculous he was for talking with his cat like that. Napoleon couldn't have made it clearer to Malik even if he had held up a sign, as he jumped off the counter and walked off. Malik, however, just watched his cat disappear through the window that he usually left open just a little so that Napoleon could go for a walk. These days though, his cat preferred to stay inside. He was an old man now and much too lazy and comfortable with staying inside and having his food delivered to him instead of hunting it down himself.

He sighed again, something he did quite often these days - or ever since he started spending more time with Altaїr, despite the fact that he was not even that willing to spend time with him at all. Well, then again, Altaїr was damn good looking and it was true what he had claimed last night: he gave pretty good blowjobs while drunk.

With yet another sigh, Malik drove his left hand through his hair and ruffled it in an attempt of clearing his head before he grabbed his cup again and slowly started walking back to his bedroom. This was not at all like him. He was much too professional, much too responsible to get involved in such a mess and yet, here he was, standing in his bedroom door to look at the naked man who was lying in his bed, his stupid face buried in Malik's pillow with his arms tightly wrapped around it. One of his feet - the right one - was dangling out of the bed and it seemed only a matter of time now until the rest of his body would follow. For once, Malik did not entirely know what to do about this situation.

He was going to meet his parents in two hours. Not here, thankfully, and yet he needed to make haste. His stomach turned as he just thought about the day that was lying before him. He would much rather climb into bed with Altaїr, pull the blanket over his head and just act as if he wasn't even existing anymore. It was true, he envied Altaїr for the freedom he possessed. Altaїr was not bound by anything. He couldn't care less about religion and he didn't care about the expectations others put on him. He only did what he wanted to do.

What was he going to do now about this situation? Should he just go on with his life and act as if nothing had happened in the first place? Altaїr seemed to be pretty good in acting exactly like this, but Malik, sadly, wasn't as skilled in this department. Well, first he should go and take a shower, he assumed, but right as he turned around to enter his bathroom, the doorbell rang and the sharp sound almost ripped his entire world apart.

※※※※※※※

It wasn't fair. Kadar had decided that all of this just wasn't fair and he would not stand around doing nothing and watch this all unfold. It wasn't fair to Sana and not fair to his brother either. Everyone could see that Malik didn't want to marry her and everyone could see that Sana didn't want to marry him, right? Right.

Of course, he had not asked her directly. It would have been impolite and he did not think that she would be able to tell him straight forward how she felt about this whole situation. Still, he was quite sure that she was not too happy about the pressure her family put onto her. After all, who would be? Of course, being the good daughter that she was, Sana would probably just go with it anyway and marry Malik despite everything, she would be able to get along with Malik for sure and Malik would have a good wife in her - but still this wasn't how it was supposed to be, was it?

»I really don't get it.« Kadar sighed as he leaned back in his chair and threw a rather annoyed glance at his mother though he usually was not like this towards his parents. Big-mouthy, yes, cocky, always, but never outright annoyed. He loved his parents after all and his parents had made it possible for him and Malik to follow their dreams. He should not be questioning them. They did their best and he should just be grateful. Wait, wasn't that Malik's approach to everything their parents did? Wasn't that the reason why his big brother was in this situation now? As his mother looked at him questioningly, his decided to move on. »I mean« He started clarifying his thought process. »Aren't arranged marriages a little bit outdated?«

For the first time since he could remember, it was downright uncomfortable to sit with his mother in this café and watch how her face darkened at his words while around them the world kept turning and people kept walking around outside the large windows. The only other instances when it had been outright uncomfortable to be with his mother were the very few times his school had called his parents to tell them about Kadar’s not so very excellent behavior at times. He and his mother had met in the same café he had met Sana at a few days ago for a late breakfast before he and his parents would meet up with Malik, Sana and her relatives to discuss the wedding. Even thinking about it felt wrong. His mother didn't say anything, only stared at him with her lips slightly pursed and her dark brown eyes staring holes into his very soul. Malik had the very same look at times. He was awfully good in imitating her and his stare was just as effective.

»I mean … Mom, really, we live in the twenty-first century, after all. Sana seems to be an intelligent woman and she is still young, why pressuring her or Malik into a marriage they don't really want?«

»Do you suggest that only stupid women would ever agree on marrying under those circumstances?« Her voice was like a whiplash and Kadar couldn't help but flinch.

»No, that's not what I mean, Mom, but … You and Dad both know that Malik doesn't want to marry her - at least not now. Why won't you give them a little more time instead? Let them get to know each other first.«

»I first saw your father on our wedding day.« His mother replied awfully cold and determined to end this conversation. »Malik had had more than enough time to get to know her already, but he was too busy fooling around in public and raising questions about his morals. Do you even know how much troubles we had to convince Sana's family that the rumors about Malik are not true? Your brother has not the right to even start arguing with us about this after everything he has done lately. I would have thought he was more careful as to not get involved with someone like this Altaїr-person. Besides, your brother is already thirty years old, Kadar. It's time for him to settle down and start a family.«

»But Mom, he does not want this!« Kadar finally erupted. It wasn't the first time ever that he exploded into his mother's face, but the first time since puberty. »He doesn't want to marry her, he doesn't want to start a family. He only goes along with this because he thinks he owes it to you and dad. That's not right, Mom! Malik and Sana both should have the chance of finding someone they love! Only because you and dad got together like this, does not mean you have to keep this stupid tradition alive! I'm against this! And what if Malik was really gay? I mean would this be so bad? Really? Why wouldn't you just let him be himself and drop this whole thing with the wedding? There's no damage done yet, Mom.«

The moment the words stopped escaping him, the moment he saw how very stone like his mother’s face had turned as he had been talking, Kadar knew he had fucked up big time.

※※※※※※※

Malik could almost see in slow motion how his whole life started to crumble and shatter on the ground to his feet as he opened the door of his apartment and saw Sana standing right in front of him. After this, everything happened too fast to understand it. Sana was as pretty as the last time he had seen her and were the circumstances different, were he a different man, maybe she would have been the perfect bride for him. No, she _was_ the perfect bride for him and yet, as she stepped inside of his apartment, he did nothing to hinder her and thus allowed the catastrophe to happen - unwillingly, perhaps.

Everything happened in slow motion and yet so fast that he was not able to stop it. »I just wanted to talk to you in private, before the big date, you know.« Sana began, but Malik could hardly even understand what she was saying. All he heard was a monotone humming sound and so he nodded idly while at the same time he was praying to every deity that he could name that Sana would not see Altaїr here, that Altaїr, for once, would be decent enough to just stay put, to stay in bed or - even better - hide under the bed just in case should he wake up and notice that there was a visitor.

However, in the very same moment, this thought was running through his mind, he could hear shuffling steps through the humming sound of Sana’s voice and only then he realized that she was still talking. Despite the fact that the biggest part of his brain was shutting down, not wanting any part in this, his rational mind supplied him with the much-needed information. He knew that those shuffling steps were those of Altaїr. He just knew it. He knew it not because he could distinguish Altair's footsteps from those of anyone else by now, he knew it because that was how his life was, wasn't it?

»Oh« Suddenly Sana’s voice got very clear and the static around him, the white noise and the dull humming sound that had been filling his ears, was suddenly gone. The world was blissfully silent. Much too silent. »You have a visitor.«

As Malik looked at his fiancé he noticed how she casually pointed towards his bedroom door with her long index finger. He didn't even expect to see Altaїr dressed in some way shape or form as he followed her finger to look his doom straight in the eyes. Altaїr was only dressed in his tight little shorts as he casually leaned in the doorframe, fully exposing his, under different circumstances gorgeous body, his arms crossed, his eyes directed straight at Sana, his face not even slightly ashamed but defiant as if he was about to go to war. This was the gaze a mistress would give the wife of the man she was sleeping with, but Malik was quick to shake this idiotic picture out of his head as Sana suddenly - and very gently - touched his left arm to get his attention back.

As he looked into her eyes he was acutely aware that she was fully aware of what had happened between the two men, still, her eyes were soft. »Don't you want to introduce me to your friend, Malik?«

It was almost as if a spell had been broken and for the first time since Sana arrived, Malik found his voice again as he cleared his throat and straightened his back only to drive his right hand through his hair and gesture with his left aimlessly towards Altaїr. »That's Altaїr, my colleague.« He explained. »Altaїr that's Sana, my fiancé.« He felt as if he was signing his own death sentence as he noticed how Altaїr stepped closer, but as he threw a warning look at him, Altaїr suddenly stopped and as if he had suddenly realized something, his expression changed ever so slightly.

»Pleased to meet you, Malik has already told me much about you.« Altaїr addressed Sana, but his voice was missing its usual flow, his face his usual smile and his sunny boy charm with which he almost always got the women to swoon over him and made people forget what an asshole he was in reality.

Sana, on the other hand, flashed him her most beautiful smile, her lips closed, the corners of her mouth curled as she gave him a half nod in agreement, but she didn't say anything to him, just took in his appearance as it seemed. As she turned to face Malik again, there was a small twinkle of humor in her eyes. »I think I changed my mind.« She then said and Malik needed a moment to realize that she was addressing him. »I think what I have to say can wait until we meet with our families.« Her lips were soft as she slightly stretched to plant a small kiss on his cheek, before she turned and left the apartment just like this, without any word of explanation for her visit, without anything else, as if she had never been there.

The silence that fell over them was heavy after the door fell shut.

※※※※※※※

He had deserved what he had gotten. Altaїr would not make the mistake and argue with that. He was fully aware that he deserved everything that was thrown his way because he always did. He was running around like a fool, hurting others in the process without a care in the world. He was hurting Maria, he was hurting Malik, he was hurting his mother, no matter what a bitch she was. He was hurting everyone that made the mistake of ever coming near him like the sun had hurt Icarus as he had flown too close towards her. But … Was he to blame? Had the sun been the one to blame? It wasn't his fault that Maria fell in love with him, was it? But it was his fault how he was treating her and he deserved the punch he had received from her today. Was it his fault that Malik decided to engage in sex with him on the night before he was going to discuss his wedding with another woman? No, but it was his fault that Sana, his fiancé, had seen him. Was it his fault that his mother's life had left its tracks and crashed into a brick wall? No, but maybe it was his fault how she had handled the situation. At least that was what she would say to him if he would ever make the mistake of asking her.

He had been a jealous little kid. Always. And it didn't look like that was going to change anytime soon. He had shown himself to Sana like this because, as he had heard her voice after the doorbell had woken him from his slumber, he had felt anger boiling deep inside of him. Anger because he knew that there was no way in hell that he could have Malik. He could have a few flings with him, a few passionate nights at best, but he could never really have him, never really keep him, never have a future with him. That was the truth that he had to understand once more as he had heard Sana this morning in Malik's flat and it had stung like a thousand bees. Anger, perhaps he knew that it was wrong to force someone to marry despite what they really wanted. He had felt anger for Malik because at least he should be free to choose, shouldn't he? At least he should be allowed to be happy, if not with him, then at least with someone he could truly love instead. Altaїr was painfully aware that this person was not going to be him.

He was an actor in Hollywood, in this glorified fantasy world, but he was not naive enough to believe in fantasy or to live in a bubble. He knew that he was not one of the people who would get their happy ending in Hollywood. He would probably die before he turned thirty - at least if he would keep going like he was now. Thinking of it now, as he sat on the floor of his apartment, this thought didn't seem too unappealing.

His gaze shifted from the empty glass in his left hand to the cage of Al Capone in front of him.  Who was he kidding? He would never be adult enough, responsible enough, to keep a serious relationship going and someone like Malik would deserve a serious relationship. Someone like Malik deserved commitment. He, however, was not even able to keep a hamster alive.

※※※※※※※

The atmosphere was stiff, despite the idle chit chat between his mother and Sana’s aunt over their sweet tea. Sana was yet to arrive at the location and it was not at all like her to be late to anything. She had proven her punctuality already, had proven that she was going to be a responsible and trustworthy wife for Malik, a suitable partner, as his mother had assured him over and over again in the past and now that he had met her for the first time, he had to agree with her for sure. Yet, it still felt wrong, especially after the awkward visit before. Malik still did not know what it was that she had wanted to tell him, but now that she was already fifteen minutes late, he had a bad feeling about it.

His brother looked nervous as he sat beside him. He was fidgeting and scratching the skin on his neck right under his shirt collar. Kadar was only rarely ever nervous. In fact, Kadar was only ever nervous when he had fucked up big time. The real question was, how and what had he fucked up this time? Of course, Malik could not possibly ask him in this setting. They had to appear polite and friendly and so, drama school came quite in handy for Malik, though he could feel his father throw dark glances at him once ever so often. He probably thought that Malik had said something to Sana to cause her not to come to the meeting. How should he ever tell his parents that it had not been necessary for him to tell Sana anything at all?

»I just don't understand it. Sana is always so reliable. I don't understand why she isn't here yet.« Sana's aunt finally exclaimed as she threw yet another glance at the closed door of the Turkish café they had met in. It was a quiet and relaxed place, though not quite formal enough for a meeting such as this, Malik would assume.

»What if something happened to her?« It was Kadar who offered this explanation though with a pale face and clear distress in his blue eyes at the sole possibility. Malik still was not able to understand what was going on lately with his brother. Then again, Kadar had always been the weird one.

Malik was about to say something, maybe even that he had seen Sana this morning already, but as his phone suddenly vibrated in his jeans pocket, the words got stuck in his throat. Was this Sana, perhaps? It was Altaїr. He had sent just a short text. » _My hamster is dead._ « That was all, but before Malik could type anything more than »I don't care.« His aunt noticed the phone in his hands.

»Is this Sana?« She immediately demanded to know and Malik was not quite sure what to make of her tone. She sounded almost offended by the possibility that Malik could have acquired Sana's phone number. After all, it was not decent for them to meet all too privately.

»No, just a friend.« Malik replied and grew more and more aware of the look Kadar was granting him. His blue eyes were almost drilling holes into Malik's flesh. He could feel it burn. It was Sana’s aunt who received the next message before she could ask any more uncomfortable questions, but as soon as she had opened the message she jumped off her chair with a screech as if she had just seen the biggest and hairiest spider of all time on the table.

»It's Sana!« She exclaimed but did not seem the least happy about it as her eyes scanned the screen of her phone. »I cannot believe it! She is at the airport! She's going to take the next flight back to Istanbul! She says she is not willing to marry Malik!«

His parent's reaction was imminent and so quick that Malik could hardly understand what was going on. »What have you done to her?« His father growled and his mother, hysterically, broke into a fit of tears as if her life's work was ruined. Probably because it was.

»The rumors are true, aren't they?« His mother sobbed and Malik felt more and more shoved into a corner. He could see out of the corner of his eyes how Sana's relatives exchanged confused looks and how Kadar seemed to want to crawl under the table. His face was dark red. Malik did not need to ask his mother what exactly she meant. It was clear as day, judging by the way his father stared at him, murderous intent clear in his dark brown eyes.

Had Sana said something to them? Was there any point in lying and pretending anymore?

He felt the denial already on his tongue. His brain screamed at him to just lie and ensure his parents that he would try to make light of the situation, that he would drive to the airport and try to get a hold of Sana before she could leave, that he would convince her to marry him, but this time his heart was a little quicker for once. »Yes.« It escaped him and he could feel the shockwave going through his entire body as his rational mind packed its bag to leave him behind once and for all. »I'm gay.«

※※※※※※※

For once, Altaїr did not know why he came to his mother's place. He had nothing to tell her. The night hung low over the city and Altaїr noticed that it seemed he got a bit of a habit of always coming at night into his mother's lair. Then again, she usually slept through the day in some drunken stupor. Clearly, he got that from her. As little as he really knew about his father, he was sure that Umar Ibn-La’Ahad had not been a drunken loser like she was. At least, he didn't look like one on the posters and photos Altaїr managed to get his hands on in the past. He did not possess a TV, so collecting his movies had never been something he was interested in. It was enough seeing him on old photos and posters. A part of him had always been afraid that it would hurt even more, would he hear his voice or see how he had moved around, how he had been alive.

As the elevator doors opened he was not even surprised to see that his mother was still up. The lights were still on and in the background, he could hear music – the same music he had hated oh so very much all his life. In his darkest hours, he could still remember the music his mother had listened to, the music she had turned louder to not hear what happened in the next room. Not because her motherly heart would break thinking about it, but out of annoyance. Not because she felt guilty for what she put her only child through but because she did not want to put up with the noise.

»Maria called me.« His mother's voice came from the sofa, her most favorite spot to loaf around on whenever she was not on a shopping spree or sitting in some expensive cocktail bar with her obnoxious pretentious friends.

It was not unusual that his organs turned to ice, as soon as he heard the voice of his own mother, but today his anger was bigger than the ice cold pit that was his stomach. »So?« He asked and did not even try to suppress a low growl as he stepped inside the open living area and walked around the sofa. She was lying there like the aging Hollywood dive she was, a glass of wine between her long manicured fingers, a fine silken nightgown hanging from her small shoulders.

»Altaїr« as his name rolled off her tongue she sounded disappointed, but that was hardly new at this point and the only thing it made him feel now was how his blood was boiling. What right did she have to be disappointed in him? »I thought you were smarter. I raised you to be smarter! How could you be so stupid to break up with her? And in such a way! There was no need to tell her that you are gay! She didn’t have to know this! We all have our secrets.«

Altaїr couldn’t help but scoff. »You didn’t raise me, my nannies did.« He shot back at her and finally this caused her to at least sit up straight and look at him with an expression that almost resembled being hurt. Only they both knew that this woman was not able to feel something like this.

»I am your mother, Altaїr, and I do not deserve this level of disrespect from you! I did everything in my power to give you a good life!«

Would the situation be any different, would it not be so tragic, he would have laughed, instead only a small mirthless chuckle escaped him and he drove his hand through his hair. Due to the alcohol his hand felt heavy. Everything did. »You did everything in your power?« He couldn’t even look at her, instead his let his eyes wander over the furniture and all the little knickknacks his mother would buy to fill the gaping hole in her own heart. A hole that he had ripped into it, as she had once told him. »You did nothing like that. All you ever cared for was yourself. You didn’t care about me unless I could make you money and you didn’t care about the way I would do so. You didn’t protect me. You weren't a mother to me.«

»Well, aren’t you just an ungrateful piece of shit then?« It was not like her to use such foul language because for the world she was a fine British lady. For the world she was the embodiment of grace and dignity, only that Altaїr knew it better. He had seen her on her knees and elbows numerous times. He had seen her lying in her own mess more often than not while growing up. He had witness her begging various men to stay with her, not to leave her alone. He had heard this oh so very proud and dignified woman scream her lungs out for hours because she had been left behind once again, blaming him for it, promising her men that she would do everything for them. Some had stayed because of that promise and Altaїr had to pay the price. »I gave up my career for you and that’s how you thank me?«

»You didn’t give up your career. Nobody wanted you any longer because you couldn’t keep your legs closed and because of all the scandals you caused!« He almost expected a slap in the face immediately. He had been taught the hard way not to disrespect his mother, with punches and kicks, if necessary and her numerous husband had been all too willing accomplices in this matter of parenting. Whenever he had dared to misbehave, she had sent her latest goon after him.

»I helped you getting your own career started! And for what? _Accusations_! I gave you everything I had! Had I not been there, you would not be who you are now! I made you!« Her voice was shrill, but it was still acting. It was one of her most praised and perfected roles: the affronted and misjudged mother who just wanted the best for her child. He had seen her play this role for the better part of his life and, frankly, he was tired of it.

»Well, bravo, mother, bravo.« He spat as he mockingly applauded her hard work. »Then take a good look at what you created! I didn’t _want_ to start acting! I wanted a normal life! I didn’t want what you pushed onto me and certainly not for that price. You do know full well that those are no accusations! You _sold_ me and you know it! Would there be a spark of humanity left in you, you would at least feel guilty for what you have done to me!«

»I have done nothing to you!« She hissed as she finally jumped up from the sofa and clenched her tiny fists, her wineglass all but forgotten on the coffee table. »If I was stern with you it was just to further your career!«

It got harder and harder to hold back the eruption of the lava that was cooking up inside of him, boiling up his insides and making it harder and harder to breathe with every second. »You didn’t help me when I asked you to! You turned a blind eye to the things that happened behind closed doors. That’s what you did! You didn’t care what your fucking pedophile of a husband did to me back then as long as you would get money out of it, as long as you would get fame and praise out of it!«

»You are drunk, Altaїr.« Her voice was stern and low now, almost dangerously  serious as she looked at him with hooded eyes. It was a threat, clear as day. And there it was, his mother's true face. A narcissistic tyrant, nothing more.

»Yeah?« He chuckled. »So what? Does it really surprise you that I'm drinking? _Whoa!_ I said it, didn’t I? I'm a fucking _alcoholic_ , there I said it.«

»You cannot always blame other people for your own shortcomings.«

»No, but I can damn well blame a mother who let her husband rape her only child, you fucking piece of garbage.« He had thought he would never say those words and if he would ever do it, that he would scream them at her face, instead they just came out as a hiss. »Don’t ever bother me again about Maria or anyone else. I'm done with you and I'm done with Hollywood. I hope you rot in hell – and don’t worry, I have nothing left to lose anyway, this story will get out.«

As he turned around to leave her behind, she didn’t make a move to stop him and even if she had, Altaїr wouldn’t have stopped anyway. He walked back in the elevator as if nothing had happened and though his brain still not registered what had just happened, his body did. He felt sluggish, all of the sudden, as if the tension of years had finally found an outlet and left his body.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the title because "the curse of Lady Capulet" is not what this story turned into.

Altaїr’s apartment was a mess. As Malik arrived after the call he got from Desmond, asking him to go and look after the half Syrian actor, the door to Altaїr's apartment had been wide open. His first thought was that someone might have broken into his flat, but the door did not look like it had been forced open. Still, what if something had happened to Altaїr?

Malik was careful as he stepped inside. It was dark inside the flat despite the fact that it was still daytime outside. He could hear the crunch of broken glass under his shoes as he slowly walked through the entrance. It was not that he was overly worried for his Syrian costar, if anything, he was livid. He was angry. Altaїr was ditching work, he was endangering the show, he was destroying himself. The media was full of articles and excited news hosts reporting on their big new scoop about Altaїr and Malik's name would sooner or later be dragged through the mud as well.

What had gone into Altaїr?

No, that was not a question he really needed to ask himself. He knew what it was. He could see it, as he walked into the flat and almost stumbled over empty bottles that Altaїr had carelessly discarded close to the front door - probably to get rid of them. There was music playing somewhere inside the flat. Classic, oddly enough. Everything as he entered the flat and walked through the small entrance hallway into the open living space felt just strange to Malik as if walking through an empty, forgotten movie set. Maybe that was exactly what this was, he caught himself wondering. The facade of the great Altaїr Ibn-La’Ahad was crumbling and the whole world could see it.

First, he had not even wanted to come here to look after his rival, even though he assumed he couldn't call him that anymore by now, but Desmond's worry had almost been seeping through the telephone. Apparently, he had last seen Altaїr leaving his bar and never heard of him again. Two days had passed since, so, maybe worry was called for.

A part of him was still angry. Had Altaїr not shown himself to Sana like this, had he not provoked his fiancée to leave the states and call off the engagement, Malik's life might still be in order and following its designated path, but of course, everything had to be centered around this maniac and of course he had to show himself like this, he had to destroy everything. Judging by the state his entire flat was in, destroying things was the only thing he had a real talent for. There was broken glass and knocked over furniture all over the place.

The only things untouched were the framed movie posters he found all over the walls. He was sure they hadn't been there last time he had visited. Only at first glance he noticed that all of them were of movies he himself had starred in and not one could be found were Altaїr had had a role in. It was weird, to say the least.

The origin of the music was quickly identified as coming from Altaїr's quite fancy stereo in the living room. For a moment, he thought about turning it off, but then he decided that he didn't care. There was an empty cage standing right in front of the sofa on the small coffee table, already cleaned and ready to store away, apparently. He remembered the message he had gotten of Altaїr telling him about his dead hamster and though he hadn't given it much thought in the moment, now he wondered if there was more to this whole story. Whatever it was, something had made the other actor crack and not just slightly. What he was witnessing in this flat and later as he found Altaїr leaning over his toilet and entrusting the porcelain throne with the contents of his stomach, was a full blown breakdown.

But how did it come to all of this, one might wonder. It had started the night that had followed the day in which Malik had unwantedly outed himself in front of his family. In the middle of the night, he had been woken by countless texts - most from his brother - telling him to check Twitter or any news outlet as the story broke that Malik Al-Sayf was in fact gay. He didn't care who had told the press and for some reason, he didn't quite care still. He didn't care either that the world knew. It didn't matter. To his parents, he was dead now and his brother, well, Kadar had decided it would be wise to go after Sana after he had already filmed his last scenes alive as Mercutio anyway. Apparently, Malik hadn't understood Kadar's anger right. He wasn't in love with Altaїr and thus jealous of Malik for having had sex with him. He was in love with Sana and he had been jealous because Malik had been supposed to marry her. It was somehow cute in its own way.

A part of him was glad that the truth had come out now. No more hiding, no more pretending.

But, as this first news had broken the internet for at least a few hours, the next shocking revelations had soon washed over the Internet and major newspapers. Accusations of child trafficking and abuse in Hollywood stirred up by none other than Altaїr Ibn-La’Ahad, the former child star who had apparently decided to shit all over his mother and the people he had worked with as a child. His career was over. Malik knew this just as well as Altaїr had probably known it as he had decided to tell his story. He didn't know what was true and what not - then again, for some reason, he believed it.

»What have you done this time?« Malik huffed as he finally crouched down next to Altaїr on the tiles of the bathroom. He looked horrible. He looked pale and sick and, worse, beaten up quite literally. There was a cut on his right eyebrow, his jaw was slightly swollen, black and blue, his nose looked as if it had been bleeding at some point in the past twenty-four hours and as if Altaїr had not deemed it necessary to clean it up. He could see blotches of dried black blood on his shirt and his torn jeans and soon, as he tried to get a better look of Altaїr who was still hanging almost lifelessly over the toilet bowl, Malik realized that Altaїr was not at all ready to compute. The only sign of life coming from the younger actor was his rising and falling chest and the amber eyes that stared at him through the crack between his right arm and his forehead.

At least he was not puking anymore, but the stench was filling the room and made Malik's own stomach turn. »You really are good for nothing, you complete and utter idiot.« He sighed as he gently coaxed Altaїr to get away just enough from the toilet and lean against Malik so that he was able to pick him up.

Altaїr was heavy. Heavier than he had thought for sure and it was much harder to get back to his feet with a not much cooperating Altaїr on his arms this time. Still, Malik managed to do exactly that and heard how his knees were yelling profanities at him as he did so. Since Altaїr's living room was a complete chaos, he aimed for the bedroom only to realize that it was not in a much better shape. If anything, it was even worse. His bed was, to put it politely, a complete train wreck. His sheets were tangled and messy and looked somewhat dirty as if people had danced on it with their dirty shoes still on. The smell of spilled booze, cigarette smoke, and sex was lingering in the air too prone to ignore and although he had always been quite aware of Altaїr's promiscuity, knowing that he had had sex with someone since all of this chaos had started, somehow made his stomach turn once more. He wouldn't say that it hurt. There was no reason why it should hurt, was there? They were no couple and he was as far removed as anyone could be from being in love with Altaїr. Why shouldn't Altaїr sleep around? He was a free man and apparently he had nothing to hide anymore from the public eye. No, quite the contrary. Altaїr was spilling his dirty laundry for everyone to see. He was in berserk mode, ready to destroy himself if nothing else.

All of this should come as a welcome surprise to Malik. He should be glad and he should rejoice in seeing Altaїr destroyed like this, broken like this, after all, Altaїr had made an effort to ruin his career in the past while looking at him with this arrogant sly smile of his every time their paths crossed. He had stolen from Malik and even destroyed his engagement, made him come out to his parents even, made him to be ostracized by his family and-

But it wasn't Altaїr's fault. Malik had decided to tell them. He had decided to end the secrets and it had felt good. He was a free man now and that was the most important thing. Altaїr, however, thinking he would free himself from whatever it was chaining him down to the ground, was still very much caged and unable to break free. This was the only explanation Malik could find for his most recent behavior.

Despite the state his bed was in, Malik dropped his ballast on the mattress and immediately went to open the window before he turned back to the bathroom to flush the toilet. After a quick search in Altaїr's kitchen, he was able to bring him a glass of water even. Half, he had expected to find Altaїr asleep as he came back to him, but instead, he was sitting upright and leaning against the headboard of his bed. Only now Malik was able to fully take in the state Altaїr was in. There were bruises everywhere on the skin he could see. He had taken quite the beating, even though Malik did not know why or from whom. His clothes were dirty, full of dried blood and dried puke and alcohol. He had hit rock bottom, that much was undoubtedly clear.

As Malik sat down heavily on the edge of his bed, Altaїr took the glass with trembling fingers from him and emptied it almost all at once. »You need to get a shower.« Malik said but judging by his looks alone, Altaїr would not even be able to stand on his own two feet anyway. »You need to get out of these clothes.« At least that they would be able to master without a problem, he thought and so he helped him to get undressed only to reveal only more bruises and cuts strewn all over his body. »Will you get in the bathtub if I would prepare a bath for you?« Why was he even here? Why was he helping him? He should call Desmond! Desmond seemed to be the one person who knew how to deal with Altaїr! Heck, even Connor would be of greater help!

And yet it was him who was in this situation and who had to deal with it. It was him who was not calling Desmond or anyone else. It was him, who eventually got Altaїr to take a bath after a bit of bickering back and forth. It was him who found himself sitting across from Altaїr on the other end of the big bathtub in the still reeking bathroom. He could think of more romantic situations for sure and yet, here they were, two rivals who sat together naked in a bathtub. At least Altaїr seemed a little more sober now with the hot water engulfing him softly.

»So, will you tell me what happened or what?« Malik sighed with his hands resting on the edge of the tub as he tried not to be swallowed by the awkwardness of the situation. How did he even get into this strange situation?

»My hamster died.« Altaїr murmured more directed at the water surface than at him and though Malik initially wanted to roll his eyes, he felt that there was more to it.

»You told the press this horrible story about child trafficking and child abuse in Hollywood.« Malik started with a firm voice as to recap everything. As if Altaїr hadn't been there himself. »You told them about what's happening behind the scenes, about molestations and rape. You assassinated yourself. You are aware that your career is ruined now, are you? If we are lucky we can still finish filming the series but after that - Well, it's over for you.« He didn't really feel as if this was something that was really bothering Altaїr even in the slightest.

»I don't care.« Altaїr sighed and closed his eyes a little »I really don't care. You know what's funny? I never wanted to start acting. I never wanted this life and yet I did everything in my power to make it harder for you, to steal roles from you.« At least he was admitting to it now in this moment.

»And why did you?« Malik asked although he was not quite sure that he really wanted to know that much what Altaїr's reasoning behind all of this had really been. »Why have you tried to ruin my career? Why do you have all these movie posters of my movies here in your flat?«

»Because I always looked up to you. I wanted to be like you, I idolized you, I fell in love with you. Because I still love you, because I wanted you to see me. I admit, my plan might have had some flaws. But I succeeded anyway! You saw me. You noticed me. You grew aware of my existence. Finally, I was not some other actor anymore. I was your mortal enemy and that was enough. I knew I could never have you as a lover and so at least I had your attention.«

For a moment, Malik was at a loss for words. He would never be able to get behind Altaїr's reasoning because no one would be, and yet a small grin brushed over his face. Despite the fact how twisted all of this really was, despite the fact just how insane and stupid, it was, as a matter of fact, downright adorable in its own twisted way.

»I take it you are aware how stupid this idea really was, yes?«

»In my defense, I was a lot younger when I first came up with this plan. I was young and desperate so to say.« At least now he truly looked uncomfortable and Malik though that maybe he had already gotten what he deserved judging by the state his face was in.

»So« Malik started yet again and pointed at Altaїr's face. »What's the story?«

For a moment, Altaїr didn't say anything and Malik almost thought that he had struck a nerve with this question. Altaїr, the usual loud-mouthed idiot was rarely ashamed to tell one of his dramatic little war stories but now he seemed not at all ready or thrilled to tell Malik what had happened that lead to his injuries. Yet, with a sigh, Altaїr sunk deeper into the water and his legs were brushing up against Malik's legs. They were both not exactly short, after all and the tub not designed for two adult men sitting in a tub like this. Malik, however, did not mind the skin on skin contact. »I don't know.« Altaїr sighed, but as Malik did not show himself content with this answer, he continued a lot quieter than before. »I guess I just … I just snapped, you know? As I walked back home from your place, I felt guilty. I didn't want to get you in trouble like this, but I was so jealous! I couldn't stand the thought of you marrying against your will and then I thought that I was doing the same thing, right? I have been playing with Maria the entire time. I have acted as if I would love her, as if I was going to marry her and I felt like crap for doing so. She didn't deserve it. And all I felt for her was contempt because she reminded me of my mother. I had to break things off with her and so I did and then I found my hamster and … Well, I started drinking and didn't stop, I guess.«

Malik just stared at him as Altaїr tried to look everywhere but not at him. They had joked about it, Kadar and the others. They had joked about Altaїr's drinking habit for far too long and now it had gotten out of control. Altaїr had gotten out of control. Maybe he should have seen it coming. No, he _had_ seen it coming. It had been right in front of him but he had decided not to do anything about it because of the utter contempt he had felt for Altaїr, not realizing that it was not just pure hatred or anger. There was something deeper lying underneath the ashes, but Malik could not yet name it. Maybe he had felt a bit like Altaїr in the past as they had first get to know each other during their first movie, but he had been so adamant to not disappoint his family, that he had transferred all the resentment he had felt for his own actions in life onto Altaїr. Maybe this was not the reason at all. It was hard to tell.

»And then I went to my mother. I just … I had enough, you know? Everything just was too much all of the sudden and I couldn't stand it anymore. I couldn't stand _her_ anymore. My whole life, she treated me like the shit under a new pair of Prada pumps and I took it. I took every blow, every insult, every mockery, every command. I did what she told me to, hoping that I would make her proud until I realized that I didn't care anymore. I realized that I had started to hate her, that I didn't care if she loved me anymore. Suddenly, all I could think about was how much I was disgusted by her and I started to realize what she had done to me, you know? _If you want to succeed in Hollywood, you better suck some cocks_ , I will never forget how she told me that.« Again he paused only to rub his eyes with his left hand. He could see an ugly deep cut on the edge of his hand – probably from a broken bottle or glass. »Here’s the thing, though. If you uncap a bottle like this, there is no way of closing it again. It's a one-way ticket to purgatory. My whole life I bottled all of this up. The abuse, the insults, the things that happened behind closed doors. I bottled it up and wanted to forget. I thought, if I would just continue acting and build up a character that I could show the world I could become this character and forget everything bad that had happened to me when I was a child. It turned out, it doesn't work like this. Hell, who would've thought, right?« A dry, humorless chuckle escaped him. »And then it all came back. I couldn't do anything about it. But telling her everything, getting it out of my system, did not help at all, it just made everything worse. So I left, and went to Desmond's bar again.«

»And you didn't stop drinking since.« Malik concluded quietly. »Let me guess, you did provoke someone to get into a fight with you. You wanted to numb the pain.« Because that was exactly how Malik had felt as he had first discovered that he was gay. He had done everything to make his parents proud despite knowing that he had never been and would never be their favorite son. He had been horrified and disgusted by himself. He had been disgusted as he had noticed how he had liked to kiss Altaїr during their scenes together and every time he had walked out of a hotel room after having had sex with another man, he had been horrified by his own actions. Back then, all he had wanted to do was to provoke someone enough to beat him up, beat the disgusting part of him out of his body and mind.

»I don't know what I wanted to achieve.« Altaїr confessed and pinched the brink of his nose. Somehow Malik was unable to feel angry anymore. He just felt hollow and empty and was sure that this came at least close to the feeling Altaїr was experiencing now. He shouldn't get too attached to this man and he knew that. Altaїr and he could never work out as a couple and yet, with a soft sigh, Malik leaned forwards and grabbed his right arm to pull him closer.

»Come here you big stupid idiot.« He huffed as he pulled Altaїr with his back against his chest and closed his arms around him in one swift move. If he would just hold him close enough, if he would just wrap his arms tightly enough around him, maybe he would be able to keep the pieces of him together and keep him from falling apart further. The kiss that he pressed to the crown of Altaїr's hair was swift, but he meant it nonetheless. »Maybe we should upgrade you to take care of a guinea pig now. They live longer than a hamster anyway.«

With this, at least he managed to draw out a small chuckle from Altaїr and for the moment this was enough. They were both on the brink of no return. Altaїr's career was over. His own future was just as uncertain now. His family had cast him out and only his brother would remain from now on. Everything seemed a little darker and yet, Malik could at least see a ray of sunshine in the distance. It would take time and they would both have to overcome their inner demons first and fight against the pain inside of them, but sooner or later they would both be free. No one had ever claimed that the first step into freedom would be painless.

 

**-End of Chapter 12-**


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